To The Arms of Mine
by Weekend Soul
Summary: Its the year 2005, and Death Eaters have taken over the Wizarding World. An unlikely romance begins between heir Draco Malfoy and former Harry Potter supporter Ginny Weasley. NOT an AU fic!!
1. Returning Home

**Title:** To The Arms of Mine****

**Summary:** It's the year 2005, and the Death Eaters have taken over the wizarding world. An unlikely romance springs between heir Draco Malfoy and former Harry Potter supporter Ginny Weasley while the fight for justice continues.   
  


**DISCLAIMER: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. So lighten up, people.

**Author's Note**: *whew!* Here you are guys, chapter numero uno! Will be a Draco/Ginny story, just because I can *grin*. If I've made anything unclear, please leave me questions in reviews and I'll try to clear them up in the next chapter. That goes the same for any mistakes you spot. Reviews would kick ass, and send along some flames if you must; I'm currently freezing my butt off in a dorm room in Australia and could use a little warmth. When they told me Australia was the land of fun and sun, they lied. Enjoy!  
  


Chapter One – Returning Home 

Draco Malfoy idly twirled the heavy silver ring he wore on his left hand as he surveyed the scene before him with dull, uninterested silver eyes. The sparse silver and black decorations fluttered limply as countless well-dressed house-elves quietly scurried around the room, making sure all the food was in order. _Death Eater parties blow,_ he thought irratably to himself as the light tinkle of his mother's forced laughter wafted through the Malfoy Manor ballroom. The "party" had been going for a full two and a half hours and at least a hundred and fifty guests were in attendance, yet the volume level had yet to reach above sixty decibles. All around the black and grey room, men and women dressed in matching immaculate black robes could be found chattering softly in small groups or waltzing robotically to the strains of a ghost orchestra Narcissa Malfoy had hired for the night. _Even with everything going on in the past seven years,_ thought Draco as he straightened his robes, _some things just never manage to change._ __

"Bored, Draco?" a voice out of nowhere enquired, snapping him out of his daydream. He turned to see a faintly smiling Blaise Zabini behind him, clad in the standard Death Eater black robes with a sash tied loosly around her waist. She was holding two glasses of red wine, and held one out to him. For a moment, the hundreds of floating candles lighting the ballroom flickered, distorting her signature flirtatious look to make her appear positivly sinister.

"Nonsense," he said as he took one of the glasses she offered him. "How could I possibly manage to be bored at my own 'Welcome Home' party?" He raised the glass to his lips and took a much-needed gulp, draining half the glass.

"I don't know," said Blaise playfully, feigning uncertanity. She ignored her own glass and lifted a hand to toss a lock her sraight dark brown hair over her shoulder. "I thought that perhaps seven straight years of those wild Bulgarian parties would have forever changed your attitude towards these drab, formal English get-togethers of ours."

Draco tilted his head back and emptied his glass. "You know what they say," he said, setting his empty glass on a nearby table for a house-elf to collect, "there's no place like home." He realized the untruthfullness of this statement as soon as it had passed his lips. After being sent away to Bulgaria to head Death Eater operations there after his graduation from Hogwarts, he no longer felt at home in England. He had missed every event that had happened in the past seven years which went on to shape the current state of the wizarding world. He had missed the last great Hogwarts battle between the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix, a battle that not only killed Voldermort and Dumbledore, but also resulted in the deaths many of his former classmates. Not that blasted Harry Potter, though; the git had somehow managed to survive the defeat of the Order of the Phoenix and the takeover by the newly-promoted Lucius and his minions. Merlin knows where he was now, however; he headed underground six years ago with a small group of followers to head The Resistance, a group which occasionally gave the Death Eaters trouble.  

"I'm glad you're back now, Draco," Blaise said. A breeze entered the room from the open balcony door nearby and circled around them before entering the room, ruffling their hair. "It hasn't felt right here without you, you know? Your father makes an excellent Dark Lord, and you should have been here, assisting us as his heir, instead of being out somewhere in some rotting corner of Bulgaria training novice Death Eaters and drowning in seas of paperwork."

Draco's mood shifted. "If I had known you were so concerned for me, Blaise," he whispered huskily, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her closer to him, "I might have arranged to come home earlier." His gray eyes staring down into her copper ones, he leaned forward and tilted his mouth towards hers.

"Down, boy!" said Blaise, pulling away and swatting him on the shoulder. She sat her half-full wineglass next to Draco's. "I would be careful if I were you, checking people's backgrounds before you went around kissing them randomly. Time hasn't stood still while you were gone, you know." As she said this she raised her left hand and wiggled her ring finger, displaying a silver ring with an enormous pidgeon's blood ruby which clashed violently with her dark purple fingernails. 

Draco lifted his head and quickly scanned the faces in the  ballroom, letting his gaze come to rest on Adrian Pucey. The older former Slytherin was sending him a death glare from across the room, clenching and unclenching his fist by his side as if he were debating whether or not it would be considered taboo to take out his wand and curse the party's guest of honor before dessert had been served. "Ah, I see," he said.

Draco sent Adrian a smile and a nod before subtly lifting his hands in apology and taking a step back from Blaise. Blaise laughed and pouted her full red lips to blow a kiss across the room to her tall fiancé. Adrian's dark eyes flashed in annoyance at Draco before giving Blaise a smirk and turning back to his conversation with the Nott cousins.

"Don't be upset, Draco," Blaise continued as she eyed Adrian. "Millicent is still more than available if you are in want of a girlfriend."

"Draco Malfoy has never been 'in want' of anything, least of all a girlfriend. And what about Pansy, anyway?" He had seen her parents enter the manor earlier that evening, but hadn't noticed her at the party. 

Blaise became visibly uneasy, and began to fiddle with her satin blood-red sash. It was only then that Draco noticed that she had put on some weight while he was gone. She was nowhere near fat, but she certainly wasn't a rail-thin as she had been at school any longer. He waited patiently for her answer. "Pansy's not with us anymore," she finally said, her eyes fixed on the black marble floor.

Draco blanched at her words. Pansy, gone? Sure, she was annoying, but she had also been one of his good friends at school. "What? What happened to her? Is she dead?" he asked frantically.

Blaise shrugged, stating through body language that she missed her friend. "I don't know. None of us do. She just – disappeared. She joined the Dark Lord along with the rest of us after graduation and was assigned her mission, but then, before the Last Battle, she vanished. The general consensus is that she was captured by the Order of the Phoenix and killed herself rather than be given Veritaserum – in any case, those were the instructions we were given should we have been captured."

Draco had his mouth open to ask her another question when he was interrupted by the faint sound of hissing. He and the rest of the guests turned their attention to the base of the small stage where the ghost orchestra, oblivious to what was going on, continued playing. Green smoke had begun to appear from the floor, and was shaping itself into the form of a man. "Finally," Draco heard someone mutter quietly, cutting through the silence. "You'd think he would have been on time for his heir's homecoming, at least."

Across the room, Narcissa Malfoy politely excused herself from a small cluster of people and made her way to the front of the ballroom. She was the only person in the room who was wearing robes of mauve satin rather than black, and they swirled gently around her tall, thin frame as she walked across the room. Blaise poked Draco's side. "I'd best be getting back to Adrian," she whispered. "It's wonderful to have you home again." She gave him a smile and squeezed his hand quickly before turning and disappearing into the crowd that was slowly pressing forward.

Draco allowed a small smile to flicker over his face before he turned to join his mother at the front of the room. He took his place to the right of the smokey figure, calmly staring out at the sea of faces as his mother did to his left. When the hissing stopped, the smoke disappeared and in its place stood Lucius Malfoy – the Dark Lord. The ghost orchestra finally finished their piece and stopped playing. There was a collective murmer of "my lord," as every person in the room bowed their head slightly. 

Dressed in black, gold-trimmed robes, Lucius looked about the same to Draco as he had when he had last seen him seven years ago, except for one thing. It wasn't the scar down his cheek or the smile on his face (which Draco certainly hadn't seen very often before this night) – rather, the difference he percieved in his father had more to do with his aura than his physcial appearance. When you looked at him, you couldn't help but feel intimidated, for the authority he exuded was strong enough to knock you over. A big change from his previous House-Elf-To-Voldemort persona. 

"My followers," Lucius addressed the group in a strong, clear voice, "Tonight we have reason to celebrate, for my heir, Draco, has returned from Bulgaria to assist us in our strengthening battle against The Resistance. I have no doubt that with his help, we will be able to destroy Harry Potter – once and for all. The Resistance will be destroyed, and the mudbloods will finally realize that they have no place in our world. We shall succeed, and accomplish Voldermort's goal when he could not."

For a brief, insane moment, Draco though the Death Eaters were going to break out in cheers and applause. Surely in Bulgaria, any speech, even a short one, would have resulted with loud cheers and the mass consumption of alcohol in unhealthy proportions. However, this was England and the society purebloods prided themselves with being dignified and collected, if nothing else. The Death Eaters merely bowed once again to Lucius, and muttered together "we will serve."

_Hmm,_ thought Draco, _a motto. That's something new._ __

Lucius turned his back on the room and raised a hand towards the orchestra. Expressionless, the ghosts raised their dusty instruments and once again began to play. Taking this as a sign that they were to go back to the party, the guests turned away from the stage and continued with their talking and dancing. Draco was searching for Blaise to ask her more questions about Pansy when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

"Draco," his father said in his ear. "I trust you are well?"  

"Yes, father," Draco replied automatically. Of course, his father didn't really want to know how he was. He was intrested in the situation in Bulgaria. "I wrapped up the necessary business in before I came home," he added. "Everything is as you wished it to be, and they are ready for you arrival next week."

Lucius's normally dull eyes sparkled a bit at this news. "Very well," he said. "We can talk business later. Go enjoy your party." He turned towards Narcissa, and the two of them stepped down to join the other couples waltzing. Draco sighed and subtly rolled his eyes before clumping off the platform. Blaise was nowhere in sight – probably off in some dark corner snogging with Adian. He decided to leave the party for awhile, just to clear his head. He strode across the marble floor, opened the heavy oak doors, and exited the ballroom.

The chatter and laughter became fainter and fainter as Draco wandered through the halls, deeper into Malfoy Manor. The faint moonlight flickering through the windows cast distorted shadows over the walls, and the portriats on the walls glared at him as he passed, as if they were condemning him for choosing to walk out on the reigning Dark Lord's party. Draco didn't care. 

He continued stalking down the poorly-lit hallway, his footsteps barely making a sound on the thick carpeting. It was just like his parents to stick him in the middle of a party the minute he came home after being away for seven years. Not even giving him a chance to reunite with some of his good friends from school, friends he haven't gotten so much as an owl from, probably at his father's insistance. Draco passed a window seat and threw himself against the green velvet cushions. Leaning against the wall, he stared out the window, seeing nothing but darkness, and let his mind wander.

Draco knew the reason why his father had sent him away so quickly and kept him away for so long. He didn't want to share any of the limelight with him. Lucius had planned and carried out all of Voldemort's wishes to perfection after he rose again during Draco's fourth year. Lucius had been his right-hand advisor throughout the war against Dumbledore. Lucius led the Death Eaters to victorty at Hogwarts after Voldemort had been destroyed by Potter, and finally Lucius had succeeded the Dark Lord himself. It was not until five years later, when Lucius had firm control over all his followers, did he finally allow Draco to return to England and present himself as the Dark Lord's heir. When people heard the name "Malfoy," from now and into the future, it would be Lucius they would think of, not Draco.

Something caused Draco's ears to perk up, jolting him out of his thoughts. It sounded like a door shutting – no, not just any door shutting. It was the sound of someone closing a door who didn't want to be discovered. Draco tilted his head slightly. Someone was walking down the hallway. He couldn't hear footsteps, but he could feel the presence of another. They were walking this way. In a minute, they would pass the window seat and see him. Slowly, Draco reached inside his robes and grabbed his wand.  

With a yell, Draco lunged out of the seat and into the middle of the hallway. He whirled around and pressed the tip of his wand to the throat of the intruder. He heard a gasp, but no scream. "Who are you?" he demanded. In the dark hallway, he could just make out the figure of a tall young woman with long hair. She didn't answer. "Who _are_ you?" he repeated angrily, pressing his wand into her neck. 

She coughed. "Put your stupid wand away, Malfoy," he heard her say. "I'm unarmed. See?" she held up both her hands. "Besides, even if I wasn't, it's not like I'm trying to do anything to you…"

That voice…it was vaugely familiar. She sounded like someone he knew, only not quite…he pulled his wand away from her neck and lifted it up to her face. "Lumos," he commanded. 

Immeadiatly the hallway was illuminated, and they both blinked by the sudden brightness. Draco took several steps back and from her. She was wearing a long butter-yellow cloak which, though covering her entire body, could not hide what had to be a perfect figure. Her straight red hair fell naturally around her shoulders, and her brown eyes flashed at him with irritation, a look which was mirrored perfectly on her face. "Keep your hands in the air," he ordered, walking up to her again. She sighed, but did as he ordered. He leaned forwards slightly and squinted at her face, as if he were trying to place a name with it. Red hair, freckles…Suddenly, he laughed and straightened up. "You know, Weasley, for a transvestite you look pretty damn good. What did you do, go to one of those Muggle…" He was cut off as she shoved him in the chest.

"Bastard," she muttered, stalking past in a swirl of yellow. 

"Hey!" he grabbed her arm as she tried run by. "You were sneaking around my house. That makes you an intruder. And I haven't said you could go yet. I want to know, Weasley, what sparked this change. Did the mudblood turn you down one time too many? Or did you finally realize that this was the only way you were ever going to catch Harry Potter's eye?"

With an exasperated groan, the woman wrenched his arm from hers. "I'm Virgina, you git, _not_ one of my brothers! Honestly, and to think I went to school with you for six years…anyway, I have permission to be here."

"Permission? Not likely. I doubt my father would ever knowingly allow a member of The Resistance into Malfoy Manor." She was quiet for a moment, just staring at him. Then-

"I'm not a member of The Resistance."

Draco snorted. "Not a member? Please. Like I'd believe that. I remember you now, you were that skinny little redhed who worshipped Potter all through school, almost as bad as that Creevy guy. How could you possibly _not_ join The Resistance?"

"I have my reasons, and they're none of your business! I've already gone through all this crap with your father and his minons, and they've cleared me of all Resistance involvement. Don't you dare think you can just show up here after seven years and start making assumptions about me based on 'facts' you picked up ages ago!" She glared at him, challenging him to say something.

To his amazement, he found himself trying not to laugh. She was definitely different from the scared little mouse of a girl he had seen back when he was still attending Hogwarts. How did she get this confident? "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" he asked menacingly, trying to break through her confidence. "_I_ am Luicus Malfoy's heir."

She rolled her eyes in irritation. "Well pardon me,  _your majesty_, but you could be Salazar Slytherin himself, and there's not a woman in the world who wouldn't get a bit shirty with you if you accused her of being a transvestite.

"Anyway, if you're quite done with your interrogation, I'll be going now," she said as she bent to pick up her wand, which had apparently fallen from her pocket at some point. 

"What if I'm not done?"

Ginny snapped at him. "This isn't the war! You have no right to detain me! You can trace my bloodlines just as far back as yours, Draco Malfoy. I have every right to be here, and what's more, I was _invited_ to your house. I'm leaving, and if you don't like it, you can take that wand of yours and shove it right up your - "

Draco laughed. He couldn't help it. _That_ was her version of a threat? "Such language, Miss Virgina," he said through chuckles. "What would your mother have to say about that?" Far in the distance, he could hear people talking and the front door opening and closing. The party must be breaking up.

She looked at him, her face expressionless. Something about the way she held herself made him stop his laughing. They stood silently in the hallway, staring at each other and not moving for several moments. Then, she tucked her wand back into her pocket, turned her back on him, and walked off.

He didn't follow her.

Instead, he turned back and sat down on the window seat. Now _that_ had been a strange encounter. What was she doing wandering around the hallways of Malfoy Manor? Even if she had been invited as she claimed, wouldn't she be in the ballroom? And, more importantly, why wasn't she a member of The Resistance? His father must have been extremely conviced of her innonce, otherwise she probably would probably be locked away in the newly-populated Azkaban. A Weasley, a die-hard Gryffindor, and a Harry Potter adorer to boot. What could have possibly happened to make her change sides like that?

The foremost question nagging at his mind, however, was how on earth did she get so beautiful? He wasn't just trying to vex her when he had said he remembered her a skinny little runt. Perhaps he was just too busy during his later years at Hogwarts to notice her growth spurt. He slouched down in the window seat, stretching his legs in front of him. Closing his eyes, he allowed her face to enter his thoughts. That waterfall of firey red hair and those big, expressive brown eyes. Her small, ski-jump nose. And, of course, her delicate pink mouth, which appeared to be just the tiniest bit crooked when she shouted. 

He realized he was smiling, and gave himself a mental shake. What was he thinking? He had spent the last six years with the most beautiful, vivacious women Bulgaria had to offer at his beck and call. How could he possibly be going all batty over plain old Virgina Weasley?

Draco lost track of how much time he spent sprawled out on the window seat thinking, but eventually he heard a musical voice from above him ask, "Draco?" He opened his eyes lazily. _Shit! he thought, registering the face floating about him and slamming his eyes shut. He'd known Millicent Bulstrode since he was eleven years old, and he __still got a shock every time he heard her speak before he saw her. While the tall, muscular dark-haired girl wasn't very attractive, she had the voice of a choir of angels. She had wisely joined the Wizarding Wireless Network after graduation. _

"Hi, Millicent," he said, keeping his eyes closed.

"Your mother is looking for you," she told him, apparently unaffected by his rude behavior. She probably got a lot of it. "Most of the guests are leaving, and she wants you to say goodbye to them." When he didn't move, she forcibly pulled him to his feet. 

"Alright, alright," Draco muttered. "No need to get touchy." He and Millicent started their long trek back to the Main Hall of the Manor. "Millicent," he said after a couple moments of silence, "Did you know that Virgina Weasley was here a few minutes ago?"

"No," she answered, keeping her eyes straight ahead, "but it doesn't surprise me. She's doing that piece on the Manor for the Daily Prophet, after all."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, that's right, you don't know about any of this," she answered. She kept walking. More silence ensued.

Draco was irritated. Damn her for deliberatly keeping him in suspense. "Well, are you going to _tell me about it, or what?" he asked through gritted teeth. _

Millicent finally smiled. "She's a reporter with the Daily Prophet," she explained. "She writes just about anything, really. Right now she's writing a story on the Manor, it's history, and it's current occupants. She should be coming by to interview you in the next couple of days, in fact."

"You mean she's not with The Resistance?"

"Yes, it's funny, isn't it?" Millicent said without a hint of puzzlement on her face. "She's an Indifferent, and a pretty influential one at that. Ginny doesn't support The Resistance, but she doesn't give a damn about the Death Eaters either. As long as both sides leave her alone, she's happy to coexist."

"But _why?" Draco was about to ask, when they suddenly reached the Main Hall._

"Oh Millicent, you darling, you've found him!" exclaimed Narcissa. She held out her arms to Draco, who obediebtly went towards her. "He was walking around the Manor reminiscing, I expect. Poor boy, he's been away so long." She and Isabella Lestrange laughed. "Come now, dear, everyone's leaving…you're already missed the Parkinsons." Draco allowed himself to be led away, biting back comments about how he was twenty-five and shouldn't be treated like a child anymore. 

****

Ginny sat alone in her flat, staring at her blank parchment and absently twirling her quill in her fingers. It was late, she had just gotten home from Malfoy Manor, and she was tired, but she still had to work on her article. "Headline, headline…" she said to herself absently, leaning back in her chair and staring at the plaster ceiling. 

"What do you guys think?" she asked, picking up a picture of her brothers. They ignored her, prefering to torture Percy, who was fighting valiantly to save his picture of Penelope Clearwater from Death by Tearing. "Eh, never mind," she said, setting the frame down on her desk. "You'd probably come up with something like 'Malfoy Manor: Home of Gits Galore.'" She frowned. Maybe she should just go to bed. 

Dropping her quill on her desk, she walked from her desk to her closet and shrugged off the muggle t-shirt and jeans she was wearing beneath her robes. Reaching into her closet, she grabbed a random nightgown and pulled it over her head. "Nox," she muttered, turning off the lights before getting into bed. Wrapped up in her quilt in the darkness, Draco's words kept coming back to her.

_"Such language, Miss Virgina…what would your mother have to say about that?"_

She gave an annoyed huff as she drifted off to sleep. Draco Malfoy may be an Adonis of a man, but he was just as insufferable as he had been when they were children.

***

_Next Chapter: Draco has a near-death experience at the hands of little children, we knock back a few drinks in The Leaky Cauldron, a bit more light is shed on the current situation of the wizarding world, and we find out just what's up with Ginny and why she turned her back on Harry Potter. Exposition, yea!_


	2. Motivation

**Title:** To The Arms of Mine****

**Summary:** It's the year 2005, and the Death Eaters have taken over the wizarding world. An unlikely romance springs between heir Draco Malfoy and former Harry Potter supporter Ginny Weasley while the fight for justice continues. NOT an AU fic!!  
  
**DISCLAIMER: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. So lighten up, people.

**Author's Note**: FF.NET is finally functioning properly, so here is chapter two! I was very proud of myself as I finished it only ten days after writing chapter one, but alas I have not had a chance to post this until now. Ths chapter is dedicated to all my lovely first reviewers; SerenityBlack, Glitterati6, Jessica Felton and NiMiBabe, with a special thanks to Lady Jade who was the very first person to put me on her favorites list! *cry* I'm so touched!!

Chapter Two - Motivation 

Draco leaned his forehead against the cool pane of glass, staring at the people below. From the height of the Wizarding Wireless Network's tower in Diagon Alley, they looked like colorful ants scurrying around and anthill. He felt somewhat like a king looking down on his subjects – or a god. _Dance, dance for me minions,_ he though to himself mirthlessly as someone interrupted his thoughts.

"Draco?" Millicent asked in her honey-coated voice. He turned to see her seated on a leather chair in the middle of the room, several pieces of parchment on her lap. She was dressed in a particularly hideous pair of dark blue robes which, if chosen in an attempt to make herself look thinner, had failed miserably. Off to the side, squinting in the bright sunlight which floded through the room's many windows, sat the scrawny little guy whose name Draco had already forgotten, the magic technician responsible for handeling the spells which would broadcast their interview over the wireless.

"You've been staring out that window for ten minutes," Millicent continued, her squashed nose crinkling. "Vulcan's set everything up already. Are you ready?"

Draco nodded and peeled himself off the rickety plastic chair he was sitting on and sat down across from Millicent in an identical leather one. He gave a mental sigh as he watched the little man fiddle with his wand and clear his throat. Barely home three weeks, and his father was already sending him out to handle his PR. He'd be damned if he even knew what half the questions would be reffering to – being in Bulgaria was like solitary confinement as far as news was concerned.

Vulcan muttered something under his breath and swished his wand while simeltaneously pointing at Millicent, who cleared her throat. Automatically, Draco reached a hand up to smooth down his hair before remembering that the was the wireless and no one could see him anyway. "This is Millicent Bulstrode live from the WWN tower in Diagon Alley," she was saying. "I'm here today with Draco Malfoy, son of Minster of Magic Lucius Malfoy, who has recently returned to us after seven years in Bulgaria. How are you today, Draco?"

"Good, thank you," answered Draco, bored out of his mind.

"Are you glad to be back in the U.K.?"

"Very much so," he shamelessly lied. Hey, this was politics. "I've missed it."

"Draco, while you were in Bulgaria you missed quite a lot of signifigant events," said Millicent, glancing breifly at her notes. "How does it feel returning to an entirely different home?"

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Excellent," he said with what he hoped resembled conviction. "From the beginning of time, magical people have been respected, revered – to put it quite simply, we're better than muggles. We're an entirely different species altogether, several notches above them on the evolutinary ladder. We weren't meant coexist with muggles, even those with limited magical abilities. It's a pity that we had to go through so many years of war, death and strife to get people to realize that, but now that it's finally been accomplished, I think the improvement is quite obvious." 

"What about The Resistance?" she prodded, staring straight at him. "After so many years of war, many pure-blooded wizards just want to get on with life and forget the last five years ever happened. Do you see The Resistance as posing a serious threat to the peace we've finally achieved?"

Draco gritted his teeth, the words his father has said that morning ringing in his ears. _The number of Indifferents is climbing, Draco,_ he had said, waving a piece of parchment in his face. _They could side with The Resistance, or with us. When you go to that interview today, I want you to make us sound like the heros. We aren't the evil the brave Harry Potter spent his whole life fighting; we are the crusaders,returning to pureblooded wizards what is rightfully theirs. Pull those damn Indifferents over to our side._

"To be honest," Draco answered after a pause, "I don't think The Resistance will be around much longer. While it's members mainly consist of muggle-borns trying to worm their way back into our world, the brains behind the whole operation are pure-blooded wizards, such as ourselves. I believe, as my father does, that in time those pure-bloods will come to see how much better off we are without muggle-borns, and they'll abandon The Resistance and come back to our world where they will, of course, be welcomed."

Draco was forced to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing at that one. Welcomed? Yeah, welcomed to the dungeons at Malfoy Manor, perhaps, _if_ they were lucky.

"Do you believe The Resistance would be able to survive without the support of purebloods?" Millicent asked.

"No, I don't," Draco said simply. Millicent raised a furry eyebrow and looked at him pointedly, trying to get him to elaborate, but he kept his mouth shut. He felt like bolting from the room. As it was, he was going to have to spend many hours in The Leaky Cauldron to erase his anger at getting lassoed into doing this whole interview in the first place.

"A final question, Draco, before we answer owls from out listeners," Millicent continued after a moment, and he almost sighed out loud with relief.  "You supporting the New Ministry, what would you say to all the members of our audience who are Indifferents?"

Draco slipped into automated mode. "No one identifies with the Indifferents more that I do," he began, reciting the answer he had prepared that morning before apparating to the tower. "I grew up listening to stories of the war, then from my fourth year onwards I found myself in the middle of it. Only in these last six years of my life have I experienced anything remotely resembling peace. Yet our new world, though vastly improved, is far from perfect. I completely understand how tempting it is just to sit back and enjoy the peace we have now, but just think of this – if we ignore the problems facing us now, they're just going to get bigger and bigger, until they get to a point where peace in something that only exists in fairy tales. Now that we're on the road back to the life we were meant to have, we have to continue walking, or else we'll never reach out destination."

Millicent wasn't paying one bit of attention to him. The first couple owls had already arrived and were dropping envelopes and pieces of parchment into a box at her side, where she was shifting through them looking for an approiate question.

"Thank you, Draco," she said, not lifting her head. "And now for our first question…"

***

Draco finally left the WNN tower forty-five minutes later, tired and annoyed. After the twelfth "Are you currently seeing anyone, Draco?" message and two howlers from anonymus Resistance supporters, Millicent had finally displayed some mercy and ended her show. Stepping out into Diagon Alley for the first time in years and taking a deep breath of the sweet summer air, Draco was suddenly hit by the urge to do some exploring. But first things first – he was _dying_ for a drink.

He turned left and carefully wound his way through the street, careful to avoid goups of chattery witches zig-zagging from store to store searching for the best prices. He was nearly trampled outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies as a hoard of children, high on the thought of finally being let out of school for the summer, flocked to the display window and pressed their noses agains the glass, trying to get a glimpse of the year's latest broom. Sighing, he brushed a smudge of dirt – was it in the shape of a _footprint?_ – from his black robes and decided to contine walking to The Leaky Cauldron with his head down, bulldozing through whatever crowds he found himself enveloped in.  A much more effective way of walking – he soon found himself walking through the weathered door and into the darkened pub.

_Nice to see some things haven't changed,_ thought Draco as he reconized the familiar bald, toothless form of Tom the inkeeper behind the bar, pushing three drinks towards a group of giggly young witches who were twirling their hair through their hair and eyeing a wizard in the corner flirtatiously. Draco walked up to the bar and took a seat directly across from Tom.

"Hello, sir," greeted Tom. Draco was slightly shocked. Tom had always addressed him as 'young Mister Malfoy.' Amnesia, perhaps? "And would you be looking for a room, a drink, or a comely young witch today?" He nodded in the direction of the three witches, who were now eyeing Draco. Ah, love. How fickle. 

"Just a drink, please," said Draco. And the sooner, the better. He tossed a few sickles on the couter. "Ogden's Old Firewhisky – a double."

Tom raised his eybrows slightly at this. "It's not even noon, Mr Malfoy," he said, but nevertheless got him the drink. Aha. So Tom did recognize him. Draco tilted his head back and took a deep gulp. Hmm. Not as intoxicating as Bulgarian alcohol, but it would do the job.  He sat the mug down on the table, only to see Tom still staring at him.

"I caught a bit of your interview over the wireless this morning," he said neutrally, running an old rag around the rim of what appeared to be a perfectly clean glass. "We didn't know if you'd ever be coming back from Bulgaria."

Draco shrugged. "There was much to take care of," he answered cryptically. He took another swallow of his drink.

Tom set the glass down. "I expect you'd have a lot of interviews to do in the coming weeks. Everyone seems to be trying to grab a piece of you." A tinkle sounded behind them, signaling the arrival of another customer. "Speaking of which…hello, Ginny!" Tom called out, flashing her a toothless smile. 

Draco turned his head over his shoulder to see Virgina Weasley walk over to the bar and take the seat next to him. "Hello, Tom," she said cheerfully. She was dressed in a modest black skirt and pale blue short-sleeved top. Leaning over the bar, she asked "Could I just get my usual, Tom?" He nodded passed her a glass of elderflower wine. "Ta."

Draco smirked at her as she raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. "Well, fancy running into you again. Are you stalking me, Miss Virgina?"

She set her glass down on the table and rolled her eyes. "Stalking you? Please. Chasing is more like it. I followed you here through half of Diagon Alley, shouting your name the whole time, and you never even turned around."

"You followed me here?" he asked, confused. "How long were you following me for?"

She laughed and smiled at him with an evil twinkle in her eye. "If you're asking if I saw you nearly get tossed through the Quality Quidditch Supplies window by a mob of first years, the answer is yes."

"I could have taken them," he retorted, draining his mug. "What were you chasing me for, anyway?"

"You know that interview with you I scheduled through your mother for next Friday?" he nodded, even though he had no clue what she was talking about. "Apparently, it's off. I got an owl from your father this morning saying that in my upcoming piece about the Manor, the only occupant I was to concentrate solely on was himself."

Draco sighed with relief. "Thank you, father, for that unintended blessing," he said, raising his empty mug in a mock-toast. Watching him from the end of the bar, Tom apparently thought he was asking for a refill, as he brough him a fresh mug. Well, no complaints from Draco.

"Believe me, I'm not crying over it either," said Ginny, taking another sip of her wine. "If only your father would go ahead and cancel the whole thing," she added wistfully. 

"What – does my father control everything that's written in the Prohphet?"

Ginny snorted and looked at him as if he was stupid. "Where is your mind, Malfoy? I always suspected you possesed one that didn't quite work properly, but now I'm beginning to doubt its existance at all. Of course your father controls the Prophet! He controls everything. He may shun the title of Dark Lord in the public eye, but everyone with two working brain cells knows your father is nothing version two of You-Know-Who."

Draco put down his mug, intrested. Now they were delving deeper into the mystery which was was Virgina Weasley. "Spoken like a true Indifferent," he said to her sarcastically. "Tell me the truth, Virgina – where do your loyalties lie?"

She glared at him, not speaking. A minute of silence passed. "I do not have to justify myself to you," she said finally in a polite but controlled tone. "I might identify more with one group's principals than the other, but that does not mean I support either of them. You and your bloody suspicions can fuck off." Throwing him one last death glare, she left her half full glass on the bar and stalked out of the hotel, nose in the air. 

Draco hadn't realized he had been staring at her retreating figure until the door of The Leaky Cauldron slammed shut. Sighing, he turned and glanced over his other shoulder, only to see every other customer staring at him. They hastily averted their eyes. 

Tom came up again and, with a sigh, removed Ginny's glass. "I'm sorry, Tom," said Draco, suddenly realizing that Ginny has stormed out without paying for her drink. He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Galleon. "I'll pay for our drinks."

Tom ignored the coin, staring at the door as if he could somehow still see Ginny through it. "Lover's quarrel?" he asked Draco casually.

Draco almost fell off his chair. "What? Us? No! What makes you say that?"

Tom ignored his question, looking thoughtful. "That one has always been a fighter. Good to see she's getting some of her spirit back," he said, almost to himself.

An idea suddenly struck Draco. If Virgina was going to be as closed-mouth as a clam over this whole deal, why not pump Tom for information? After all, he had probably know her for her entire life. 

"Tom," he said in a near whisper, leaning across the bar, "Why isn't Ginny underground supporting The Resistance? Granted, she's a pureblood and all, but the Weasleys are pro-muggleborns. They're notorious for it. Not to mention that Harry Potter is practically their adopted son." 

Tom shook his head slowly. "Indeed. It's a sad deal, Mr Malfoy. I'd imagine she would be supporting The Resistance, had things turned out differently at the Last Battle. Some things are just meant to happen, I guess."

Draco was literally dying of curiosity now. He leant forward further untilhe was practically sprawled out over the bar. "Did something happen to her at the Last Battle?" he asked. 

"To her, no," Tom whispered in a conspiratory tone. "She was on the site, as it was her graduation day, but the Order of the Phoenix used a mass relocation spell to remove the students from the immeadiate area just as the fighting started. It was her family. Every male in the Weasley clan was wiped out that day. Her mother died a few days later, a broken heart if I ever saw one. After that, she shut down. She left went to live in the muggle world for a year, and when she returned your father ordered a full investigation of her under the suspicion that she was a spy for The Resistance. Everything came up clear, though. She took a job at the Daily Prophet and has become something of a leader for the Indifferents. No one wants to forget the past more than Virgina Weasley."

***

Ginny apparated into the study in her Hogsmeade flat with a loud pop. "ARUGH!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, seething with anger at yet another unpleasant encounter with Draco Malfoy. She swung her wand around her head, banishing a shelf full of books and papers to the other side of the room, where they slammed into wall and crashed to the ground. With another swish of her wand, all the parchment, quills, books and picture frames were swept off her desk…and right out the adjacent open window.

"Damn," Ginny muttered, running to the window and sticking her head out of it. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The papers halted and began to rise up to her window. Ginny expertly directed the mass of paper back through her window, where she let it fall back on the floor.

Ginny sighed, and tossed her wand onto her now empty desktop. She looked around her. She had totally destroyed her study. She hadn't lost her grip on her emotions like that since…well, for a long time. Ginny moved to kick the pile of papers on the floor in fustration, but ended up kicking something solid. Her eyes widened in realization as she heard the tinkle of glass breaking. Reaching down, she brushed several pieces of parchment and a paperback muggle book aside to reveal the familiar picture of her brothers, enclosed in it's broken frame. 

Careful not to cut herself, Ginny pulled the photograph out and, dropping the ruined frame on the floor, made her way over to her favorite overstuffed red chair in the corner. Leaning back in it, she raised the picture to her face. Percy, looking extremely peeved, was picking what Ginny assumed to be shards of glass out of Bill's ponytail, while the twins were shaking their own heads and giving Ginny nasty looks. 

"Sorry," Ginny said, "it's not like I did it on purpose." She fell quiet, continuing to stare at the photograph without really seeing it. Thoughts of Draco Malfoy invaded her mind instead. She thought of how he looked sitting in The Leaky Cauldron at 11:30 in the morning, slouched over the bar and drinking that firewhisky as if it were the first water he'd had since returning from a three-day trek across the Sahara. What right did _he_ have to sit there like that, looking like he was drowning in misery? The git didn't even know the meaning of the word suffering. If anyone should be sitting in that pub 24/7, it was Ginny herself. 

She sighed and shiftted, throwing her legs over the arm of the chair, as she pictured in her mind the way Draco had looked that night at the party while he was talking to Blaise Zabini. He looked so animated, so…handsome. A far cry from the "Tortured Soul" Draco, which was the only side of him he had shown her so far. Closing her eyes, she pictured his face in her mind…his trademark smirk, his cool grey eyes and white-blonde hair…

Ginny sighed and pulled herself out of the chair. She was wasting her time fantasizing about Draco Malfoy. While he himself was gorgeous, his personality was something else, not to mention all the crap he had put her brother through while they were at school. 

Picking up her wand, she abandoned her trashed study and headed down the hall to her bedroom. Simply decorated with white and peach, her room was her santuary. Ginny flopped onto her bed and amongst the gentle poofing of her down blanket raised her wand and pointed it towards the closet. "Accio shoebox!" she called.

A tattered cardboard box flew out of the top shelf in Ginny's closet and placed itself in her hands. She sat herself up and tossed the lid off to the side. Inside, the box was crammed full of envelopes – letters, sent to her through the muggle post. All by the same person

Harry Potter – The Boy Who Lived.

She picked out an envelope, took out the paper inside, and began to re-read the familiar writing.

Dearest Ginny – 

_Tomorrow it will be five months since I last saw you. Nearly half a year. For the past seven years, I have never gone this long without seeing you._

_Tomorrow also marks the five month anniversary of the Last Battle. Ginny, I'm worried about you. You can't possibly go through this on your own. You can't escape your past by running to the Muggle world. _

_Hermione and I don't go a day withou talking about you, and all the other members of The Resistance are hoping you will finally come to your senses and join us. You belong here with us Ginny, fighting to uphold the beliefs and morals your family died trying to defend. Please, contact me. I can only take so many unanswered letters. Look for owls with a red thread around their left foot – these are The Resistance owls. Send a letter with any one of them and it'll reach me. Please, Ginny. I miss you. _

Ginny sighed, and placed the letter back in it's envelope. That was one of the first letters Harry had sent her. Putting the envelpe back in the shoebox, she picked reached for a more recent one.

Ginny – 

_Our numbers are steadily growing. Every day, more Indifferents are coming over to our side – when will you be one of them? _

_We have scored some minor victories against the Death Eaters lately. I don't know if the Daily Prophet would have received any reports of them – everyone knows Lucius controls every magical institution, and most likely he'd want to keep this underwraps. We are planning a major assult, though, one which will not be so easy to cover up. _

_Hermione sends her love. Please reconsider. We need you. I need you._

Ginny folded the paper lifted her eyes to the ceiling, trying to ignore the tears that were threatening to fall. That letter, received three years ago, had been one of the last letters Harry had sent regularly. Not long after that, she had contacted him using one of The Resistance owls, asking him not to involve in Resistance work anymore. Now she only heard from him a coule times a year, usually on the anniversary of the Last Battle. 

Which, by the way, was coming up. The five-year anniversary.

Ginny pressed her hands to her forehead in an attempt to quash a headache she already felt coming and let out a groan. Today was the ninth of June. The anniversary was on the fifteenth. The letters would start to come soon. A letter from Harry. A letter from the Memorial Society, inviting her to speak at the ceremony at Hogwarts, which she declined every year. Letters from old friends, who wrote to her without fail at this time every year to offer her kind words, but who otherwise never contacted her.  

Why wouldn't they just leave her alone? She didn't want to be the spokesperson for the Indifferents, a crusader for The Resistance, or a pureblood icon for the "New Ministry." Everything and everyone important to her had been lost through war; she didn't care if it was still going on. She was going to continue living her life as if everything was normal. 

Ginny pulled herself out of her reverie. She regretted her tantrum before; her interview with Lucius Malfoy was tomorrow at the family's manor, and her notes were now floating around god-knows-where under a mountain of spare parchment and books. With a huff, she dragged herself to her study, with a flick of her wand, turned on the wireless. Finding a bare spot on the floor, she settled herself on the blue carpet and started to shift through the mess, humming along to Celestina Warbeck. 

Ginny had always enjoyed Celestina's songs, and she soon slipped into a state of deep concenration. Ron had always snorted at her when he caught her singing along to the radio. "Celestina Warbeck is a singer for old folk, like mum and dad!" he always said as he'd wrestle with her to switch off the radio. "Honestly, Gin, when are you going to start listening to normal groups, like the Weird Sisters?" Then they'd both fight for the dial on the radio, Ginny's attempts to explain that she _did_ listen to the Weird Sisters sometimes muffled by Ron's shoves, and eventually her mother would come storming into the room shouting, 'Ronald! Virginia!'

"Virginia!" 

Ginny gave a little scream and jumped, whipping her head around to see where the voice had come from. There, floating in her fireplace, was the smirking face of Draco Malfoy. God, twice in one day. Who had cursed her? Probably that pervy little photographer down at the Prophet, what was his name again….

Draco's disembodied head laughed at having scared her. "God, you're an odd sort of woman, Virgina," he said through his chuckles. "You hardly make a sound when someone leaps out at you and pressed a wand to your throat, yet you scream and get all jittery when someone says your name."

"I wouldn't have been startled if you had just said my name like a normal person instead of screeching it like a banshee," she snapped.

"And I wouldn't have been screeching like a banshee if you had just answered me when I called you in a normal tone of voice the first fifty times," he retorted easily.

Ginny's fingers itched to snatch her wand and lock off her fireplace, which would leave him with a nasty headache and send him sprawling across his manor's expensive marble floor. With her luck, however, he would crash straight into Lucius and that would be the end of her journalism career. 

"I'd had enough of you for one day, Malfoy," she said instead. "Tell me what you came to then get out of my fireplace."

"Father's throwing a party at the manor tomorrow to celebrate the anniversary of the Redemption," he explained easily. "You're invited, which of course means that he expects you to be there. Be at the Manor at five p.m. tomorrow."

He started to fade out. "Wait!" Ginny cried, and he came back into focus. "What do you mean, five o'clock tomorrow? I have an interview with you father at five-thirty!"

"So bring your notebook," he said, unfeelingly. "See you tomorrow."

Then he disappeared with a pop. 

Mentally cursing the Malfoys, Ginny gratefully looked around her already destroyed study. If it hadn't already been trashed, she surely would have set fire to it then.

***

With a sigh, Draco dipped his quill in his bottle of Artic Ocean Squid Ink and drew a line through Ginny's name on the parchment in front of him. _Finished,_ he though irratably. _Honestly, when Father told me to come home to commence my duties as his heir, I wasn't aware that the word 'heir' had become a synonm for 'secretary.' _He tossed the scroll of parchment into the fire behind him. Everyone who needed to be invited to the Redemption party tomorrow had been. 

He left the library and went in search of his father. He had been trying to talk to him ever since he arrived home that afternoon, but the minute he apparated into the front hall his mother had directed him to library. "You're father just has something he needs you to help him with, dear – it should only take a minute," she had said before pushing him through the wooden doors and shutting them with a bang, leaving him trapped with a mountain of paperwork.

In a way, however, Draco was grateful for the mindless task- it allowed him to get some time to himself to think before he went barging off to his father. There were many things he had learnt since his arrival back home that had shocked him, but none had impacted him as much as the news of the Weasleys's deaths. Sure, he couldn't stand them, but he didn't want them _dead_…well, Ron maybe. And perhaps those pain-in-the-ass twins as well, and that stuffy git who had been Head Boy in his third year…but never mind. 

After thinking about it, he decided that the reason why the revelation that there was now only one surviving Weasly had shocked him so was because all through his tumltous life, the Weasley family was the only thing that could be counted on to remain the same. The Weasley family was _always_ huge, they were _always _poor, they all loved muggles…now there was only one and she had turned her back on everything her family had stood for. If there was one sign that would have told him that the world he had returned to was entirely changed from the one he had left, that would have been it. Yet there was still something clinging to his mind…just the tiniest shred of doubt…

Draco burst into what felt like the hundreth room he had tried, quickly scanning it with his eyes. The library. There, _finally_, was his father, standing besides one of the many bookshelves and talking to Narcissa in a low voice about tomorrow's party. They both looked up as they heard the door bang open.

"There you are, dear," Narcissa began. "Your father and I were just discussing the party. You _will be wearing the new robes to the ball tomorrow, won't you?"_

"Naturally," he said automatically. Then he remembered his purpose for stomring in here. "Could I talk to father for a moment, mother?" he asked politely, glancing at his father as he did. Lucius nodded slightly.

"Of course," obliged Narcissa, smiling although it was obvious she was annoyed at having her party-planning interrupted. "I'll just be in the kitchens giving the house elves the menu." With that, she exited the room in a streak of dark red, her heeled shoes barely making a sound on the thick green carpeting.

Lucius settled himself into a plush red chair by one of the room's many tall windows. "So, Draco," he said as the heavy oak doors clicked shut. "What was it you wanted to talk about?" 

"Father," he said "I just heard about the Weasleys today…"

"Ah, yes, the Weasleys," Lucius interrupted. "Very sad, really. They were one of the largest pureblooded families around, with a lineage that could be traced right back to the times of Salazar Slytherin himself. Oh well, that's what happens when you choose the losing side." Lucius looked at Draco curiously. "Why do you ask about them?"

Draco chose his words carefully. "I was just wondering, Father," he began, "if all the Weasleys are _truly dead."_

"Of course not, boy," Lucius snapped. "You know quite well the girl is still alive. I had you invite her to the party earlier this afternoon, didn't I?"

Draco chose another path. "What I meant, father," he clarified, "was to ask if all the Weasleys who are supposed to be dead are _actually dead, and not merely…hidden." Draco knew firsthand how extensive the dungeons beneath Malfoy Manor were, and had no doubt that they now contained their fair share of Phoenix prisoners from the war. All he wanted to know was if the Weasleys were now among some of its occupants._

Getting his meaning, Lucius huffed and stood from his chair. "Don't be stupid, Draco," he said as he made his way to the door. "With the exception of Virgina, all the Weasleys are definetly dead."

Draco remained staring at the door, the sound of it slamming and his father's words echoing in his ears.

***

_Next Chapter: Are__ all the Weasleys definitely dead? Harry Potter makes his grand debut as we travel underground to get a glimpse of The Resistance, a waywayd house elf steals Draco's clothes, Ginny learns shopping can be dangerous (as it increases your chances of running into old classmates), and, most importantly, we get some G/D action! All this more in chapter three, Five Years Today._


	3. Five Years Today

**Title:** To The Arms of Mine

**Summary**: It's the year 2005, and the Death Eaters have taken over the wizarding world. An unlikely romance springs between heir Draco Malfoy and former Harry Potter supporter Ginny Weasley while the fight for justice continues. Not an AU fic!  
**DISCLAIMER**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. So lighten up, people.

**Author's Note**: Chapter Three is dedicated to my beautiful aunt, who is promising to take me out and get me nice and drunk when I come to visit her in Singapore this September, and my kick-ass beta Rose Fay, who sets me straight when I get confuzzling. Twleve shout-outs must go to my sister as well, who is in the hospital recovering from her near-death experience. This chapter is _not_ dedicated to my evil computer, who deleted over half the pages of this story and made me start again from scratch. Blame him for the delay L This chapter is twice as long as the other two, though, so I hope that makes up for it.

**Chapter Three – Five Years Today**

Ginny stormed into Madam Malkin's the next morning, still fuming from the previous afternoon's events. Damn Malfoys! she thought to herself fiercely as she stalked through the store, the plain sky-blue sleeves of her robes brushing against the magically suspended display robes which fluttered as she steamed forward. _Them and their damn death eater parties – grinding the whole wizarding parties to a stop for them! For godssakes, I have a story to write, not to mention that now I have to go out and buy brand-new robes especially for this thing._

Ginny let her gaze come to rest on an extensive rack of Hogwarts robes, and for a moment the wild idea of arriving at the party that evening in her shabby old school robes flickered through her mind. Ha. She would never show up in anything less than the best. She hadn't been that shabby, impoverished little Weasley for five years now, and she wasn't about to revert back to that state, especially since it had taken them so long to accept the fact that she had money. It wasn't the Malfoy fortune, but with her job, the inheritance from her parents and brothers, and the money she had made by selling the Burrow, she could make ends meet and still have quite a bit to spare.

Ginny turned her attention back to the extensive racks of robes, absently shifting through them. At the back of the shop, Madam Malkin was gushing over the only other customer in the shop, a tall, curly-haired brunette twirling in violet robes and frowning at her reflection. "It's stunning!" she was saying.

Ginny headed to the back corner of the shop, where the most expensive robes were kept out of the reach of small children with grubby hands. Chinese silk, Egyptian cotton…every fabric you could imagine in every shade possible. Ginny frowned to herself as she let her hand run over the rack. What color should she wear? Red, pink and orange were definitely out. She could never stand those colors. Not to mention that they clashed horribly with her vibrant hair.

"I'd suggest you stick with cool colors," a voice behind her said. Ginny turned and saw the tall brunette standing behind her, still wearing the purple robes. She smiled at her. "Hi. I'm Eleanor Branstone. You're Virginia Weasley, aren't you? I was two years behind you at Hogwarts."

"Yes," said Ginny. Now that she mentioned it, she could connect Eleanor's face with the image of the scared-looking Hufflepuff first year in her mind. "Are you headed off to the Redemption Ball at the Malfoy's tonight as well?"

"No," Eleanor answered. "I'm a bit too working-class for the Malfoys. It doesn't matter anyway; I don't support the New Ministry."

"Ah, a fellow Indifferent."

She gave her a tiny smile. "Well, I won't keep you," she said. "I just came by to say hello and to see how you were holding up."

"I'm all right, thanks," said Ginny, confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Eleanor shrugged and turned her eyes towards the rack behind Ginny. Her eyes swept over the robes, and she leaned forward and plucked out a pair of dark green robes. "This would look excellent on you," she said, handing the hanger to Ginny. "It was nice talking to you," she said, and with that she exited the shop.

Strange, though Ginny, shrugging to herself, but she didn't think too much of it. Since the Last Battle, she had become used to being accosted by strangers and long-forgotten fellow Hogwarts students. She looked down at the hunter green robes she held in her arms and ran her hands over the fabric. It was soft and slightly coarse. Thai Silk, she thought, peeking at the label to verify her thoughts. Walking over to the large gilded mirror at the back of the store, she slipped of her old blue robes and pulled the dark green ones over her shoulders. 

"You look beautiful, dear," the mirror told her. Ginny smiled and thanked it as she ran her arms over the sleeves, smiling faintly at her reflection. The robes were embroidered with a gleaming gold thread in an intricate Asian design, which she felt made her feel slightly exotic. Madam Malkin, hearing the mirror talking, came over to join Ginny at the back of the shop.

"Virginia," she breathed, circling Ginny once before holding her at an arm's length to assess her appearance, "you _do look stunning. I must wrap these up for you immediately- it would be a crime for you to wear something else to the Ball tonight."_

Ginny didn't need an iota of persuasion. "I'll take them," she said, quickly slipping out of the robes and gently handing them to Madam Malkin. She shook her head to herself as she followed her to the front of the store, swinging her old robes back around herself. Eleanor Branstone might have been a bit strange, but she had impeccable taste.

***

Eleanor pushed her way out of Madam Malkin's shop, the enchanted door ringing as she stepped out into the busy streets of Diagon Alley. She effortlessly melted into the crowd and headed off towards the Leaky Cauldron. As she walked, she pulled off her robes to reveal the simple black-and-white muggle dress she wore underneath. With a wave of her wand, she magically reduced their size and shoved them into the handbag she was carrying. This was always the most dangerous part of her journey; she had to make it from Diagon Alley to muggle London without anyone noticing her. 

She reached the door of the Leaky Cauldron, took a deep breath, and swung it open. Stepping into the pub always made her nervous; being half-muggle, Tom would certainly not know her mother, but he would probably know her father. She herself had only come into the Leaky Cauldron a handful of times with her father when she was very young, so he might not connect the tall young woman he saw now with Theodore Branstone's daughter, but there was always the possibility. She kept her head down as she stepped into the tavern.

Eleanor kept her eyes on the ground until she was sure Tom was busy with some customers at the end of the bar. At this hour of the morning, the Leaky Cauldron was nearly empty, containing only a couple old wizards reading the _Prophet, two middle-aged witches in shabby-looking hats, and a younger man seated in the corner, staring at a half-empty glass he was spinning idly on the table. He looked up at her and Eleanor jumped slightly at the sight of those familiar eyes staring right back into hers. Giving herself a little shake, she shoved her wand into her handbag, she tossed her curls over her shoulder and practically ran out the front door into muggle London._

Out on the pavement, Eleanor blended in easily with the crowd. Sauntering easily down the street and pausing occasionally to stare into store windows, she could pass for any working woman on her lunch break. No one gave her a second glance.

She walked several blocks further, and the air became hotter. Eleanor could never stand the heat, and she was itching to duck into a corner, pull out her wand and perform a cooling charm. Common sense, however, as well as experience told her that performing magic in muggle London was akin to walking up to Lucius Malfoy unarmed and singing praises to Dumbledore while wearing a "I Love Harry Potter!" t-shirt. _Keep walking, she told herself. __Almost there. She let out a sigh of relief as she came to a window displaying expensive-looking leather armchairs, she paused momentarily and then stepped inside._

It was apparently a busy morning for chair buying. The shop's four employees were scuttling from customer to customer so fast, they were nearly gliding on the perfectly polished wooden floor, expertly dodging what must have been millions of pounds worth of leather chairs scattered about the room in various settings. One employee, a thin bald man carrying a folder full of paper, nearly collided with Eleanor as she took a few steps forward. "Good morning, ma'am," he said curtly. Eleanor didn't miss the way his eyes flicked over her inexpensive dress before he ran off again. The other employees gave her similar looks of disinterest as she wandered through the store. _Well, excuse me if I can't conjure Versace! she wanted to snap at them as she smoothed down the black-and-white fabric of her dress, transfigured from her old school robes. Oh well. It was better if they didn't pay much attention to her, anyway._

Eleanor headed to the back of the store, where a mock-office had been set up, complete with leather-bound books and featuring a seven-thousand pound leather armchair. Ignoring the chair, she walked over to one of the bookcases behind it. Quickly peeking behind her shoulder to make sure no one was watching her, she darted behind it. 

The bookcase was fair distance away from the wall, creating a short, alley-type area  behind the display. She had plenty of room to move and was effectively hidden from the rest of the people in the store. Eleanor took a couple steps forward and knelt down, examining a set mousetrap which had been placed by the corner of the wall. _Who would have though a posh place like this would have had mice? she thought to herself with a grin as she reached a hand towards the trap. _

Suddenly, she heard a noise behind her. It was only a faint noise, but her ear picked it up because it was…familiar. Without standing up, Eleanor whirled her head around and looked over her shoulder. Behind her, where there had before been only empty space, now stood a tall figure clad entirely in black. 

It was the young man whose eye she had caught at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Well, well," he said with a small grin on his face, "fancy finding you behind a bookshelf in a muggle furniture store, Ms Branstone."

Eleanor kept her face expressionless. She hadn't intended to be caught back here, but right now she was more frightened of being found by the muggles in the shop. "What's going on behind there, Jack?" she heard one employee faintly call to another. Footsteps began in the distance and began to get closer. _Damn! They must have heard the guy talking to her. _

He had also heard the muggles approaching. "Now what are you going to do, Eleanor?" he asked tauntingly through his smile, though he lowered his voice to a whisper.

Eleanor did the only thing she could. She shot her arm out and grabbed his hand, then yanked it over her head. She heard him sputter as he lost his balance and toppled over on the floor. The bookcase rocked forwards slightly, and the muggles's shouts grew louder as they heard the thump of his body hitting the floor. Eleanor pressed his hand and hers to the mousetrap simultaneously, and instantly felt the familiar jerk in her stomach. She relaxed slightly as the portkey sucked her forward. The muggles wouldn't find anything behind the bookcase. She would deal with this oaf when they got to The Underground.

***

It was around noon at Malfoy Manor. House elves were running frantically all through the house, trying to prepare the menu for the ball that evening. Hoards of charmers were pouring through the front door every few minutes, conjuring the decorations for the party. Lucius Malfoy was tearing his hair out in the study, bellowing about The Resistance and incompetent New Ministry staff. And Draco Malfoy was happily taking a nap in one of the sitting rooms, sprawled out across a window seat.

After searching for nearly an hour, his mother had finally found him here, relaxing while everyone else worked themselves into a frenzy over the preparations needed for the party that night. She almost laughed when she saw he was smiling as he slept. 

_Probably dreaming of how smart he is, she thought. __Well, if he thinks he can get out of having to prepare for the Ball simply by finding a deserted corner of the house to fall asleep in, he has another thing coming. _

Narcissa drew her wand from the pockets of her pale blue robes and placed the tip on Draco's forehead. "_Enner -" she began, but drew her wand away before she could complete the spell. A small smile crept across her face. So he wanted to shirk his duties, hmm? Well, she wouldn't be waking him nicely. Maybe that would finally teach him a lesson._

Narcissa took several steps back. Draco had fallen asleep in a sitting room in one of the more obscure parts of the house, sprawled out in a window seat with his eyes twitching slightly in bright sunlight. With a flick of her wand, Narcissa expertly summoned a chair from the other side of the room and sat down in it. She waited momentarily to see if her son would wake up. 

He didn't.

Smiling, Narcissa raised her wand again, concentrating on the window seat's green velvet cushions. "_Accio!" she cried. The cushions flew into her arms as Draco toppled to the floor, landing facedown on the hard stone floor. _

Narcissa laughed.

With a groan, Draco pushed himself slightly off the floor and shook his head. He turned to see his mother sitting across from him, laughing softly. He dropped his head back on the floor. 

"Why are you trying to kill your only son?" he groaned into the floor.

Narcissa just smiled. "Get off the floor. You'll get a cold."

"Oh, so you don't want me to catch a cold, but it's okay if I crack my head open on the floor and _die, is it?"_

"Don't be ridiculous. You know that wouldn't have happened." She eyed the green cushions and Draco pulled himself into a sitting position, though still making no move to get off the floor. "Wrong shade," she murmured.

"Wrong _what?" Draco repeated, gingerly checking his head for bumps. _

"Wrong shade. These cushions are the wrong shade of green," Narcissa answered patiently. Suddenly, she remembered why she had come looking for Draco in the first place.

"Draco, the charmers I hired to do the decorations for the ball tonight have already arrived. They're in the ballroom right now, but they can't get the exact shade of green I want." She sighed in annoyance. "I thought maybe if I could show them an example of the color I wanted they'd be able to get it, but it would appear that particular shade exists only in my head. These damn balls drive me mad. Speaking of which, would you be so kind as to abandon your little catnap here to help your poor mother with tonight's preparations? Even your father is doing his bit to prepare."

Finally convinced that no lasting damage had been done to himself, Draco stood up. "Yes, yes, I know. I was just catching up on some lost sleep. I'll be down in a minute."

"Perfect." Narcissa banished the cushions back to their proper spot and tucked her wand away. "I'll meet you in the ballroom in a little while." The chair slid back to its place alongside the coffee table and Narcissa started walking towards the door.

"Okay," called Draco after her. "I'll be in the ballroom in a minute."

As soon as the door closed he flopped back down onto the window seat's cushions and closed his eyes. He smiled to himself as all thoughts of green dress robes pushed themselves out of his head and her remembered the conversation he had with his father earlier that morning.

"These damned Indifferents make me nervous," Lucius had said, tossing the Daily Prophet Morning Issue he had been reading to the side. "The war's not over. It's merely on hiatus. I know it, Harry Potter knows it, and so do these bloody Indifferents, no matter how dumb they play. And when it does pick up again, they're not going to sit around idly with their hands under their arses like they've been doing for the past five years. They're going to pick sides. And they sure as hell better pick the New Ministry."

_Draco remained quiet, not sure if his father was talking to him directly or just ranting in general. _

"Draco!" his father snapped back after a minute. "You're my heir, not some brain-dead house elf; think of something! I didn't haul you back here from Bulgaria so you could sit around and stare at the walls like a goldfish in a bowl."

Really, Draco had to bite back his tongue from saying. And all this time I thought I was just here as a replacement for that secretary you fired last month. "What about Virgina Weasley?" was what he actually said. At this his father had looked remotely interested, so he continued. "I mean, she's one of the most influential Indiffrents around, even if she doesn't actually profess to be one. I'm sure that if we could get her to support the New Ministry, a lot of the Indifferents would, uh, see the error in their ways and turn to our side."

Draco chuckled. For a moment, it had looked as if his father were deciding how much time he would give him to pack before sending him barreling back to Bulgaria, but then he had suddenly laughed. "You know, Draco," he had said as he rose from the table, slapping him on the back, "You're not half bad."

Then he had put Draco solely in charge of "enticing Virginia over to our side."

His first solo mission. What fun.

If only it were a something a little more challenging.

***

Eleanor gasped as the swirling stopped and she finally felt her feet hit solid ground. She opened her eyes, which she had automatically squeezed shut for the portkey journey, to see the tall form of the man she had dragged along with her lying on the tiled kitchen floor. 

"Get up, you bastard," she said, gently prodding his side with her foot. He coughed and rolled over onto his back, blinking as he stared up at her. 

"Some warning would have been nice, you know," he said, making no attempt to get off the floor. "You know I have to mentally prepare myself before portkey travelling."

"Some warning would have been nice, you know," she mimicked him, "before you snuck up behind me like that and nearly blew our whole operation! What in god's name were you thinking, Stephen? You were supposed to leave the Leaky Cauldron twenty minutes after I did, not five!" She reluctantly took the hand he held up to her and helped him off the floor, resisting the urge to drop him.

"Give me a break, Ms Branstone," he said in the same taunting tone he had used in the furniture store, mocking her recent promotion within The Resistance, which she had to admit had gone to her head slightly. "Do you know how long I'd been sitting by that bar, just waiting, waiting, waiting for something to happened? Can you blame me for wanting to get out of there a bit early?"

Eleanor snorted. "Sitting and waiting, my ass. Don't forget about all the drinking and flirting you were able to do in the meantime. Seriously, you should be thanking me for that assignment…"

"I still don't know how you got promoted over me, as I'm three years older than you and a former Ravelclaw to boot."

"…and anyway, waiting another fifteen minutes wouldn't have killed you."

They stood in the tiny kitchen they had been transported to, just glaring at each other. Eleanor tried to ignore how cute Stephen looked with his spiky brown hair mussed and his black muggle jeans an t-shirt crumpled. Stephen tried to concentrate on something other than how pretty Eleanor looked with her cheeks all flushed from anger. All around them on the walls, the smiling faces of young children looked on, phantom grandchildren of the phantom elderly couple who owned the tiny country cottage they were now standing in. 

Stephen finally cleared his throat and broke the silence. "So, are we going to the meeting or what?"

Eleanor glared back at him, annoyed at him for being so distracting and annoyed at herself for allowing herself to be distracted. Wordlessly, she stalked out of the kitchen and passed through the house to the living room, the only room of the house whose walls were not covered in pictures or random muggle decorations. Stephen caught up to her side, and they simultaneously drew their wands and traced an intricate pattern over the white plaster surface, muttering rapidly under their breaths. They stepped back as the wall began to shimmer, and with a loud pop, a glistening rectangular opening appeared in the wall. 

"After you," said Stephen, gesturing towards the door. Eleanor glared at him beforen stepping through, and Stephen rolled his eyes as he followed.

The thing Stephen liked best about travelling to the underground headquarters of The Resistance was that there was no sign you had actually traveled anywhere. The spinning from Floo Powder, the jerks from the portkey, the momentary darkness with Apparation; none of those sensations were present when you stepped through the enchanted door. Hermione Granger's excellent charming skills ensured that it acted just as a real door, only the room you stepped into was thousands of miles away from the one you just left.

The headquarters of The Resistance was rather boring as far as headquarters went. Despite its awe-inspiring name, it was really nothing more than a large room with stone floors and walls. Countless doors were set in the walls, leading off to bedrooms, bathrooms and kitchens so the more recognizable members of The Resistance could safely live at the underground. The headquarters itself was empty of all furniture except for a large, circular wooden table and chairs which was perfect for sitting around hurling screams and insults across the room, which the Resistance members often found themselves doing when discussing tactics and various operations against the New Ministry. Sneakoscopes and various other dark detectors were strewn about the room, and in the middle of the table sat a huge pile of parchment and maps, currently being tossed from side to side.

"For godssakes, Harry," Hermione snapped testily to herself as she shifted through the mountain of paper with her wand, gently flicking her wand from side to side. "Would it kill you to keep this place slightly more organized?" She squinted her brown eyes as she searched for something in the huge pile. 

Eleanor cleared her throat and Hermione looked up and smiled at them. "Hi Eleanor, Stephen," she said. "Wow, you're back a bit earlier than we expected you. That's okay, everyone else is already here so we'll just start the meeting now." With a final swish of her wand, the papers on the table arranged themselves into something remotely resembling a neat pile. 

Eleanor and Stephen settled themselves into their usual chairs as Hermione turned and rapped on one of the many doors branching off from the room's cold walls. "Harry?" she called through the heavy wooden door. "I think he's back here playing exploding snap or something equally stupid," Hermione said to them as she pulled open the door and peered into the room. "Harry? Neville? Honestly, where are all of you?"

Eleanor jumped as a loud explosion suddenly came from the room, followed by an equally loud burst of laughter. Hermione gave a cry and slammed the door shut. "I can't believe them!" she cried. She turned back to the table and Eleanor saw that her face and the front of her previously clean grey robes were now (formerly written 'not,' which is rather confuzzling) smeared with soot. She tried not to laugh as Hermione snatched her wand off the table and muttered a cleaning spell.

"Those animals," said Stephen in a tone of mock-outrage.

The door burst open a moment later and the other Resistance members staggered out, rocking with laughter and just as grimy as Hermione had been two seconds before. Harry Potter, Ernie McMillian, Sarah Fawcett, and a dozen other former Hogwarts students were rocking with laughter as they made their way to their seats with a great deal of effort. Last out of the room were Ron, Fred, and George Weasley, by far the dirtiest of the group. Hermione shot them an icy stare, but was unable to completely kill off the giggles. 

"Brilliant!" Neville Longbottem managed to croak out, before dissolving into another fit of laughter. Across the table from him, Parvati Patil seemed to be in the same predicament.

"I never knew you could make parchment do that!" she said, wiping away tears. "And to think, all those years at Hogwarts I could have disposed of my old letters in such a more interesting way…"

"Did you see the look on his face just before he exploded?" Harry contributed, his shoulders shaking violently.

"Why? What happened?" asked Eleanor, deathly curious of what she and Stephen had missed; so much so she was prepared to incur the wrath of Hermione Granger to find out what it was. 

"Fred, George and Angelina dug up an old love letter Lee had sent me, back in our second year," Alicia explained through her chuckles. "Fred and George bewitched it so this hologram-like thing of Lee came up from the paper and started to read the letter out loud. Then -"

"When he just starts to get to the mushy part," Angelina supplied.

"The whole thing explodes! Lee, parchment, everything! It was the funniest thing I've seen in years."

Hermione glared at them all as the laughter started up again. "You are all lucky Lee is away on assignment in France now," she scolded them. "I don't think he'd enjoy being the brunt of your stupid, childish tricks." She shot Fred and George a look.

"Aw, Hermione, our tricks aren't stupid or childish at all," George said, starting up the famous Weasley twin defense again.

"After all, dear Hermione, the devil's greatest trick was convincing the world he didn't exist," Fred butted in.

"And since we've managed to do the same, that makes us just as good, if not better pranksters than Lucifer himself."

"Better, I think," Fred replied. "He only managed to convince the world he didn't exist. We've done ourselves, Ron, and Charlie."

"Yes," said Hermione slowly. "You were lucky you managed to fake the deaths of that many people in the first place."

The laughter died then. Eleanor gulped. During the Last Battle, the Weasley family had been specifically targeted by the Death Eaters. Knowing this ahead of time, Fred and George had been able to set up two separate areas on the Hogwarts ground where they had rigged harmless explosions to go off. The four brothers made it to their pre-plotted destination on time and were able to escape underground halfway through the fighting. Percy, Bill, and Mr Weasley, however, had not been so lucky. 

Harry stood up from his place a couple of seats away from Eleanor after a moment of silence had gone by. "We've had our fun for the day," he said, trying to move on. "Let's just start this meeting, shall we?" The room nodded in agreement, and Hermione quietly took her seat between Harry and Ron.

"Not everyone is here," said Harry, scanning the empty seats scattered around the table, "but they can catch up when they've returned from their assignments. Cornfoot," he said, and the whole room turned to look at Stephen. "How was your stakeout at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Very boring, thank you."

"Were you able to discern a basic outline of the Malfoy's guest list for tonight based on everything you heard?"

Stephen scrunched up his brow, a sign that he was concentrating. Eleanor wanted to laugh. He looked like a constipated mouse. 

"The Lestranges are…Mr Lestrange was there for hours while he waited for the missus to finish her shopping." Ernie and Laura Madley snickered. "Probably the Parkinsons as well, Pansy's mother kisses up so much to the Malfoys I'd be surprised if they weren't coming. As well as the Zabini's, that fiancé of Blaise's, whatizname, Millicent Bulstrode, Crabbe and Goyle…"

"Any others beside the usual crowd?" snapped Angelina, looking as annoyed as Eleanor felt at having to listen to Stephen read out the same names as always. Hermione, however, was scribbling away frantically. 

"Well, Padma is going this year," Stephen said, and everyone turned to give Parvati sympathetic looks. 

She snorted and tossed her long plait, ignoring their stares. "Let's blow the bitch up," she snapped.

Excited looks appeared on Ron and Justin's faces.

Hermione, however, gasped in shock. "Parvati!" she scolded, waiting until she had finished writing 'Padma Patil' on her parchment before looking up. "I can't believe you'd even joke about something like that! She's your sister! Your twin, even!"

Parvati looked like she couldn't care less. "A true twin wouldn't sell the other out to Lucius Malfoy and his cursed 'New Ministry.'"

"I'm not so sure about that, Parvati," said Fred. "If Lucius had been in charge of things back in our sixth year, I would have been on his doorstep in a heartbeat, one hand holding

George and the other outstreched, awaiting my reward." He glanced at his twin, who was seated next to him. "You would have understood, wouldn't you, brother?"

"If you had used the money for the joke shop, I would have saved you the trouble and mailed me there myself."

Parvati fumed.

"Any other unusual names on the guest list, Stephen?" Ron asked, not bothering to pay any attention to the twins. 

"Umm…the minister of Bulgaria's two daughters and a friend are going. A really pretty bunch of girls, if a bit young. They invited me along." Stephen gave the other guys a smug smile.

"Really? What did you say?" asked Neville, curious.

"I pretended I was mute," said Stephen regretfully.

"Wow," said Larry Summers sarcastically. "Why aren't we all taking spy lessons from this guy in our spare time?"

"Because we're The Resistance. We don't have any spare time," Hermione said without missing a beat. She made a final scratch with her quill. "Anyone else?"

"Um, other than Ginny, I don't think so."

"Woah! Hold on one bloody minute!" Ron yelled, snapping to attention. "Ginny is going? Since when?!"

"Don't you listen to anything, Ron?" Hermione asked in exasperation. "For godssakes, you were with me while I was listening in on the Floo network last night. You heard Malfoy invite her!"

"He was too busy staring at your chest, Hermione."

She shot a dark look to the other end of the table, but no one admitted to saying anything. Ron turned red. 

"Speaking of Ginny, did you complete your assignment for today, Eleanor?" said Harry, turning his attention to her.

"Yes. She got the robes," Eleanor said simply.

There was a moment of silence. Ron opened his mouth as if to say, 'what robes?', but glanced at Hermione and thought better of it.   

Harry gave a sigh and pushed his glasses up on his nose before sliding back down into his chair. "Excellent," he said. "So all that's left to do now it…wait."

***

Ginny popped into the Malfoy Manor Apparation Point at precisely five that evening, and was nearly blinded as about forty flashbulbs went off in her face. "Ms Weasley! Ms Weasley!" reporters screamed as they surged forward to get a glimpse of the latest arrival the year's most prestigious event. 

Ginny scowled as she tried to push her way through the crowd to get to the stone steps which would lead her up to the doors of the Manor. Blow the Malfoys for making their apparation point so far away from their actual house! she though violently. Who would want to break into their creepy old manor, anyway?

"Ms Weasley, why would a professed Indifferent be attending the biggest Redemption party of the year?"

"Ms Weasley, can we take your attendance here tonight to mean that you will now be supporting the New Ministry?"

"Ms Weasley, can will you confirm or deny rumors that you and Harry Potter are actually conducting a secret love affair by owl post?"

Ginny snorted. "I'm just here tonight to conduct and interview, people," she said. She had taken Draco's advice, however sarcastically he had offered it, and brought along her quill and notebook to the ball.

"Look!" someone cried from a group huddled around the gates of Malfoy Manor, eager to catch a glimpse of some of society's most famous witches and wizards. "Victoria Lestrange!"

Ginny sighed with relief as the crowd of reporters and photographers retreated to harass Victoria, the daughter of the formerly incarcerated couple who had made a name for herself not through her latest line of dress robes, but rather through her many relationships with high-profile wizards. "Victoria, when will your divorce with Ivan Poliakoff be finalized?" Ginny heard someone shout as she made her way up to the ornate front doors of the manor, tall enough to accommodate a Himalayan Mountain Troll. 

"Name?" a coarse voice grunted as Ginny walked up to the doors, startling her. She gasped and took a small jump back, looking over her shoulder for the source of the voice.  

"Name?" it grunted again, impatiently. 

It seemed to becoming from somewhere around her, but no one else was there…Victoria and her latest squeeze hadn't been able to escape from the hoard of reporters. Ginny peered at the stone carvings around the door carefully as she entered. 

"Virginia Weasley," she stated cautiously. This time, she caught the movement of a small gargoyle perched on the doorframe as it grunted again. Apparently satisfied with her answer, it gave its stone wings a flick and the doors magically pulled themselves open. Ginny took a deep breath and stepped into the foyer of Malfoy Manor, illuminated by hundreds of floating candles which gave off a greenish light, and already filled to the brim with hundreds of guests chatting in small groups. The doors eased shut behind her as she stepped inside, already drafting excuses to leave early. 

***  
The Redemption Ball had officially begun precisely twenty-four minutes ago, and while the guests stood in the ballroom, mingling and sipping their elderflower wine, Draco was standing in the kitchens wearing his shabby old pajamas.

"I'm not asking for food," he ground out through his clenched teeth as the twelfth house elf he had tried talking to that night tried to shove a ham sandwich into his face. "I'm asking for my robes. Where. Are. My. Robes?"

The creature blinked back at him, not understanding. All around them the extensive Malfoy staff of kitchen house-elves were scurrying about, trying not to band into Draco as they carried pots of steaming, delicious-smelling foods back and forth across the white tiles. "Why, your robes is being in your closet, Master Malfoy," it squeaked. "We is not keeping your robes in the kitchens." 

Draco had to restrain himself from screaming. He was nearly a half-hour late for the ball. Wherever his parents were, they were certainly livid. "That's what I've been trying to tell you and every other elf I've spoken with in the last hour," he said. "They aren't in my room. They aren't anywhere in this house, or at least anywhere I've looked. Have you moved them somewhere?"

Another blank stare. "Nod is not cleaning your room today, sir," he said. "Nod is being in the kitchens cooking all day. But," he quickly added, seeing Draco's face get a shade closer to purple, "Nod is knowing who has cleaned Master Malfoy's room today. Nod will be getting him for sir."

"Yes," snapped Draco. "Go! Get him!" 

The elf ran off, glad to be rid of Draco, and within seconds another nearly-identical elf had taken his place. "You is wanting to talk to Chez, Master Malfoy?" he asked.

"Did you clean my room this afternoon, Chez?" Draco asked. 

"Yes, sir," he responded. "Chez is cleaning in the days, and is cooking in the nights."

"What did you do with my robes?"

"Master Draco was in the shower," Chez started. "Mistress Malfoy comes and is telling Chez that Master Malfoy is having all new robes made, and Master Malfoy is not needing any of his old ones any longer. Mistress Malfoy is saying that Chez is having to get rid of all of Master Malfoy's old robes. So Chez is getting rid of them."

Draco's jaw nearly hit the ground. "So my robes are…"

"They is being burnt, Master Malfoy." A frightened look suddenly crept over the elf's face. "Is Chez doing wrong, sir?"

Draco clapped a hand to his forehead in disbelief, not even hearing Chez's question. His robes – all burnt? What the hell did his mother say to make the house elf think that all of Draco's clothes had to be destroyed immediately? 

Thoughts were forming in Draco's head at lightning speed before colliding with each other and dying at the same pace, and he didn't even notice when a tall figure in blue stormed into the kitchens. The attentive house elves, however, promptly stopped what they were doing and obediently chanted, "Good evening, Master Malfoy," before going back to his chores. Thinking they were talking to him, Draco snapped his head up…and found himself looking into the grey eyes of his father, which were smoldering with anger.

"The ball started nearly forty minutes ago, Draco," he hissed at him, grabbing his arm and leading him towards the door. "Why are you in the kitchens, not dressed and chatting with the servants instead of working on the mission I've assigned you?" The portrait hole opened as they approached and they stumbled out of the kitchens, Lucius keeping his iron grip on Draco's arm. 

"Father," Draco tried to explain patiently, the faint strains of the party wafting through the hallway, "you don't understand. I can't go to the ball, all my robes are gone. For some reason the damn elves took it upon themselves to burn every single bit of clothing I own-"

"I'm beginning to regret ever putting you in charge of one of what I consider one of my most important missions," Lucius interrupted. "If you aren't even resourceful enough to find yourself an outfit, how are you going to manage to convince Virginia Weasley to turn to the New Ministry?"

Draco finally wrenched his arm away from Lucius, and fixed him with an equally cold glare. For a moment, neither of them said anything. "I can do it," Draco finally said. "I'll convince her, any way I have to. Remember, father, I was the one who suggested bringing her to our side anyway." Lucius raised an eyebrow skeptically. 

"I'll be in the ballroom in five minutes," Draco said and stalked off, leaving Lucius standing in the hallway. He had suddenly remembered that in addition to having an extensive collections of weapons, books, and other sorts of wizarding memorabilia from throughout history, there was also a gallery on the fourth floor of the manor featuring authentic examples of wizarding dress from the last thousand years. Sure, they were all hopelessly outdated and wearing one would mean decreasing it's market value by seventy-five percent, but it was either that to show up at the ball and try to seduce Ginny over to the New Ministy's side while stark naked. 

He reached the fourth floor gallery relatively quickly and strode past the first few rows of robes without even glancing around. He had already accepted that he was being forced to attend one of the biggest parties of the year in old-fashioned robes, but no way was he going to show up in robes from the pre-Floo network era. After swiftly browsing through the more recent robes, he finally settled on a horrifically cut pair from the 40s which were made of a coarse, scratchy fabric. They were a nice shade of blue-grey, however, which he thought matched his eyes quite nicely. Also, it was the only pair in the entire gallery without an inch of lace on it. 

A very big plus indeed. He didn't want to show up looking like Weasley at the fourth-year Yule Ball. 

He ran out of the gallery, throwing the robes over his pajamas and making sure they were completely hidden as he ran. He lifted his arm and stared at the angular cut of the sleeves in disbelief. He looked as if he had just sprouted wings and was preparing to take off. Draco made a mental note to keep his arms firmly at his side for the entire night. It wouldn't stop people from talking about the pleats on his robes, but every little bit helped. 

He finally reached the main doors to the ballroom a full hour after the party had actually started. "Mr. Draco Malfoy!" the doors announced as he pushed them open and stepped onto the marble floor, taking a deep breath. 

The ballroom was filled to the brim. Draco had never seen so many people at one of his parent's parties in his entire life. There were some giggles and murmurs as he walked calmly towards the center of the room, but the guests were not so impolite (or stupid) to stop talking and gape outright. Draco scanned the room for Virginia Weasley, but didn't see her. He did, however, catch the look of utter horror his mother was throwing his way.

"Draco!" A squeal suddenly sounded from behind him. He turned to see three young witches dressed in what were obviously their best robes lunging for him, lugging a burly photographer along. He groaned internally as he recognized them from one of those stupid teen witch magazines and glued his interview smile on his face.

"Can we steal a moment of your time, Draco?" the short blond on asked. 

"Steal?" He pretended to act horrified. "Ladies, I would be honored to hand it to you on a silver platter!"

They started giggling, and the photographer had to clear his throat and eye them meaningfully before they finally shut up. Then they started with their barrage of questions, which Draco tried his best to answer as they were thrown at him. 

"I noticed you arrived late, Draco. Off snogging some lucky young witch, were you? Who was it?"

"I just ­love the retro look, Draco. You're such a trendsetter! Who's this one by?"

"What do you have to say about that young Bulgarian witch who claims she gave birth to your baby two months ago?"

It was a good hour later before Draco was finally able to detach himself from their claws. He pushed his way through the crowd and towards the punch bowl, where he drowned three glasses of the stuff consecutively. 

"For godssakes, Draco, leave some for the other guests," a voice at his side said. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Virginia Weasley, looking stunning in a gorgeous pair of robes with her hair softly swept back, stray curls falling around her face. He stared, dumfounded, as she gently pushed him out of the way and grabbed a glass of punch for herself. 

He quickly scrambled in his mind for something to say. He hadn't expected her to show up looking so beautiful, and for a moment the sight of her had knocked all sensible thoughts from his brain. He realized that he had subconsciously expected her to show up looking as she had when she attended the Yule Ball with Longbottom, as stupid as it seemed.

And now she was taking her glass and walking away… "Wait! Virginia!" he called. She turned and arched an eyebrow. 

"Yes? What is it?"

He suddenly realized he had nothing to say. "Um, what are you doing here?"

An odd expression crossed her face, as if she were decided whether to laugh or to ignore him completely. "Your father invited me here. You invited me here. Remember, yesterday?"

"Of course I remember!" he snapped. The he regained him composure. "What I meant was, I didn't actually expect you to turn up."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, you made it pretty clear that your father wanted me to attend. And I did bring my notebook, by the way." She took a sip of her drink and looked across the room to where Lucius and Narcissa were laughing with Edmund and Miranda Lestrange. "Not that I'll actually get a chance to talk to your father tonight." She turned her eyes back to Draco and suddenly smirked. 

"What?" he asked angrily as he saw the amusement in her eyes, his pride getting the better of him. "Are you laughing at my robes? I'll have you know that, yes, they may be a bit out of style, but these are an authentic piece of history – Grindewald himself was said to have owned these robes."

"I wasn't looking at your robes, Draco," she answered scathingly. "I don't care how out of style they are or who their previous evil owner was. It's your choice of footwear I find so amusing." She giggled slightly as raised the glass to her lips again.

Horrified, Draco looked down at himself and saw that although the folds of the robes hid the pajamas he wore underneath, his bedroom slippers were clearly visible from under them. "Damn!" he muttered as he pulled out his wand and quickly transfigured his shabby brown slippers into a pair for shiny black dress shoes. 

"Don't worry," said Ginny, falsely reassuring. "Your fan club probably thought nothing of it. At any rate, I doubt they were looking at your feet." She turned her back on him and started to drift back into the crowd. 

Draco's mind started to race. "Would you like a tour of the Manor?" he asked quickly. 

She paused, but did not turn around, and he was forced to stand staring at her shimmering green-and-gold clad back while other guests pushed around him in attempt to get to the punch bowl he was effectively blocking. "Are you offering to show me around the place?" she asked sarcastically, obviously thinking he meant something else by his comment.

Draco quickly ran around to stand in front of her so he could look her in the eye. "Well, you were supposed to be working on a story about the Malfoys tonight," he said. "And since it looks like you're not going to get anywhere near my father right now, you might as well spend your time focusing on a different part of your article, like the Malfoy's great ancestral home."

Ginny laughed at him. "Thanks, Malfoy, but I think I'll be able to manage just fine without your help."

She tried to leave for a third time and he quickly moved in front of her. "Look, Virginia," he said in a whisper, "I don't know about you but I'm ready to clear out of here. By taking you around the manor, we can get out of this room without pissing off my father. And hey, who knows, you might even actually get some interesting information for your story. What do you say?"

She didn't say anything, but rather mulled over what he had said for several moments. He noticed she had a rather enticing way of chewing on her lower lip while she was in thought, which almost made him laugh. 

"Fine," she finally said. "But I want you to know the only, and I mean only reason I am going with you is because this party is hell-all boring and I really do need some background information for my piece on Lucius. If it weren't for these two things, I would never willing venture into a dark and practically empty manor with you."

"Understood," said Draco cheerfully, the euphoria from finally being able to leave the party only slightly greater than the wave of happiness he felt at finally getting Virginia to himself for awhile. "Come this way – I'll take you up to the north-east wing first, since that's were we keep most of the historical stuff."

Gulping down the rest of her punch with a 'what-have-I-gotten-myself-into' look on her face, Ginny left the glass on a table and went with Malfoy towards door slightly to the left of the ballroom stage, where the ghost orchestra was once again droning on. Waving his wand and grumbling something, Malfoy was able to get the door to open silently and they were able to slip out of the ballroom without causing too much of a ruckus. 

***

"This is amazing!" Ginny exclaimed for what felt like the trillionth time that night several hours later. She scribbled furiously in her notebook. "Honestly, Draco, I never knew you lived in such an interesting house. There's so much history here! I always though you lived in some dank castle thing, with dungeons around every corner and torture paraphernalia hanging on the walls." She gazed in awe at the collection of ancient, magical jewelry that they had been staring at for they past forty-five minutes.

"All that stuff's in the basement," said Draco, only half-joking. "Come on, we've been here forever. Wouldn't you like the see the Malfoy collection of famous wands?"

Ginny slowly shook her head. "Just give me another few seconds. Like any girl, I've always loved jewelry. This on here is just fabulous." She pointed to a crude-yet-intricate beaten gold necklace inlaid with what appeared to be dark blue sapphires. Ginny was so caught up in the necklace that she didn't even notice when Draco stepped up behind her and leaned over her shoulder, breathing lightly on her neck. 

"That's probably the oldest necklace in our collection," he whispered next to her ear. "According to legend, Rowena Ravenclaw gave it to her daughter Lucinda upon her entrance as one of the first students at Hogwarts." They were quiet, just staring at the necklace for a minute. 

"Would you like to try it on?" Draco asked after a minute.

Ginny blinked, not sure she had heard him correctly. "Pardon?"

"I said, would you like to try the necklace on?" Without waiting for an answer, he swished his wand around and the necklace rose from it's place on the marble-topped table and slipped over her head before settling itself on her neck. 

Dazed at the thought of wearing something Rowena Ravenclaw could have possible touched around her neck, Ginny wandered over to a large gilded mirror that hung several feet down the hall and stared at her reflection with an expression of disbelief on her face. 

"I shouldn't be wearing this," she said, almost to herself. "What if I accidentally ruin it?" She couldn't help smiling slightly, though, and she turned her head from side to side, making the necklace glint in the faint candlelight of the dark room.

Draco's reflection appeared behind her in the mirror. "Well, the blue clashes horribly with your robes, but otherwise it looks stunning on you." She gaped and saw him smile slightly.

"Did Draco Malfoy just offer me a compliment?" she asked teasingly. "Is the world ending, or something?" He had been civil, even friendly to her all night. She couldn't figure it out.

"There's no catch," he said, the tiny smile still on his face. "It's a purely genuine compliment, and I meant it entirely." Suddenly, he rested his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her, gently entwining his hands with hers. 

Shocked, Ginny jumped slightly and turned her head to stare at him in disbelief, but he pretended he didn't notice and kept staring at their reflections. "What are you doing?" she asked, slightly hysterical-sounding.

***

"Shh," Draco said, and tightened his arms around her, pulling her against he chest. In the mirror, he could still see the frantic look in her eyes, but he heard her utter a small sigh of content nevertheless.

God, what was he doing? 

Oh, right, seducing Virginia over to the New Ministry's side. Mmm, her hair smelled like strawberries…

Her reflection was eyeing him. "When I first saw you in my house the other day," he said slowly, trying to keep his mind on the mission and not on the smell of strawberries wafting around his head, "Did I tell you how beautiful you've become since I last saw you?"

"No."

"Oh." A moment of silence went by. "It must have slipped my mind."

"Malfoy," she said loudly, and started to fidget. "I don't know what you're playing at, but you'd better let go of me right now. In fact, I think I'd better be leaving -"

Suddenly, Draco pulled her around him and kissed her. He wasn't sure exactly why – partly because he didn't want her to even think of leaving, partly because it was part of his mission, and partly because he just wanted to. When he first placed his mouth over hers she had made a sound of surprise and indignation, but she didn't push him away…in face, she seemed to be kissing him back.

Draco decided to push his luck further. Gently, he pushed Ginny backwards until he had her up against the wall. He pulled the clips from her hair, and ran his ringers through it as it fell softly around her shoulders. She placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled him closer to her as their tongues tangled. Unconsciously, she let out a small moan and Draco nearly laughed. This was going better than he expected, he thought to himself. He moved his hands lower.

Suddenly, his head was spinning and Ginny was standing ten feet away from him. He turned to look in the mirror and saw that even in the dark room, his cheek was red. She had slapped him!

"What was that for?" he demanded angrily. 

"I was about to ask you the same thing!" she yelled back at him, color rising in her cheeks. "One minute I'm just standing there looking at a necklace, and two seconds later, you're all over me!"

"Well, it's not like you weren't all over me as well," he retorted. 

She stopped and blushed at this. "Well, you caught me by surprise," she said. "I don't know what's up with you, Draco Malfoy. I'm leaving." Yanking the necklace off of her, she shoved it into Draco's hand as she stalked across the room and exited, slamming the door behind her. 

"Virginia!" Draco called after her, tossing the thousand-year-old necklace carelessly aside as he ran out into the hallway after her. "Virginia! Come back!"

He caught up with her just before she reached the main foyer. "Virginia! Where do you think you're going?" The noises of the party, which was still in full swing, could be heard quite clearly now. 

"What do you think? I'm leaving! I've had quite enough of your Malfoy hospitality for one night, thank you. In fact, I've had enough for one lifetime. It was interesting seeing you again, Draco. Have a nice life."

He grabbed her hand and swung her towards him. "You are not leaving until I've had the chance to explain myself," he said, trying to catch his breath. 

She violently snatched her hand away from his and crossed her arms, staring haughtily at him. "Fine. I'm here. I'm listening. Tell me, what the hell was all of that about?"

Draco realized he didn't have anything to say. He couldn't very well tell her the truth. He scrambled for something to say.

He was still trying frantically to come up with something when the sounds of laughter in the ballroom turned into screams. 

Ginny frowned. "What is that?" she said, forgetting she was supposed to be in the middle of a tantrum. 

But the familiar sounds of war had alerted Draco's senses, and instinct took over. "Get down!" he yelled. Grabbing Ginny in his arms, he threw the both of them underneath a table against the wall of the hallway. 

A split second later, a huge explosion rocketed from the ballroom, shooting debris a hundred feet in every direction and completely blanketing the spot where Draco and Ginny had stood moments before. 

Next Chapter: Ron and Harry get into a cat fight, Charlie pops in for a quick 'hullo', Draco and Ginny have a heart-to-heart talk as Draco tries to make some progress on his 'mission', more of Eleanor and Stephen (just because I like them), and we find out just what happened to that darn Pansy Parkinson, anyway. Oh yeah, and the big exploision is explained. J


	4. Questions and Answers

**Title:** False Hope is Better Than No Hope At All (04)  
**Author name:** Weekend Soul  
**Author email:** weekend_soul@hotmail.com  
**Category:** Romance  
**Sub Category:** Drama  
**Keywords:** Draco Ginny War Lucius Harry  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA  
**Summary:** It's the year 2005, and the Death Eaters have taken over the wizarding world. An unlikely romance springs between heir Draco Malfoy and former Harry Potter supporter Ginny Weasley while the fight for justice continues. NOT an AU fic!  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.   
**Author notes:** *squeaks in just before the six-month mark* It's here! It's here! I told you it was coming, and FINALLY, it has! This chapter is dedicated, as always, to my beta Rose Fay, who prodded me with her giant beta stick when I slacked off, AND who provided False Hope with it's first fanart EVER! (link at bottom) This is also dedicated to everyone at Pillar of Fire (the yahoo group I mod) for all their support and encouragement, and, last but not least, Jade, my technological god.

In her third year at Hogwarts, Ginny had decided to take Divination. 

"How can you _stand_ it?" Hermione would always ask her as they did their homework together in the Gryffindor common room at night. "All divination is glorified storytelling. Honestly, I'm surprised Professor Dumbledore even allows it as a subject."

Despite Hermione's scoffs, Ginny actually found herself liking Divination – that is, once she got over the shock as having Professor Trelwany constantly predict her horrible demise. She supposed she should have been prepared for it, considering all the times she had heard about Harry's predictions from Ron, but there was really nothing one could do to brace themselves for the news that they would soon be meeting a horrible and fiery death. Though the impact of these 'predictions' had faded over the passing lessons, the memory of her first class with Professor Trelwany stood out vividly in her mind. 

"One does not need to employ the Inner Eye to perceive the aura of danger around you, my child," Trelwany had said as she flitted around Ginny. "You are a Weasley, are you not? A dangerous family to be a part of, dear…why, from the moment I saw Bill in the halls on his first day at Hogwarts, I knew he and his family would be strongly involved in the fight against dark magic." She then snatched up Ginny's hand, and traced the lines in her palm gently with her long fingernails. "Your life line…it is very short," she announced to the class. "Not the shortest I've even seen, mind you - one of my fourth-year students has that honor – but I would not be surprised at all if you were to die very, very young." With that she dropped Ginny's hand and glided to the front of the classroom to announce that evening's homework to the stunned class.

Ron had laughed it off when she told him about it that night at dinner, so Ginny decided to ignore it as well. However, for the next ten years, whenever she had found herself in even the tiniest amount of danger, she found her mind flicking back to that first Divination class. When she fell off her broom while playing Quidditch, that time she had nearly been run over a bus while walking through Muggle London – all these experiences brought her mind back to Professor Trelawney's prediction.

Now, as she lay face-down on the floor of Malfoy Manor, Draco's body over hers and the sounds of war crashing around her, all she could hear was Trelawny's voice in her head. "_Die very, very, young…die very, very young…"_

Ginny felt anger rise within her as, unbidden, her subconscious repeated these words in her ear. _You were wrong, Trelawny! Ginny screamed in her mind, trying to drive away the memory of the words. I_ survived! Out of all of my siblings, I was the only one who_ didn't__ die young, and I'm going to keep it that way, stupid war or not!! _

With a cry, Ginny turned and flung Draco off her back. The major damage had passed; while bits of debris still floated around the hall, there was no longer any danger of any two-ton blocks of stone being flung their way. Screams of panic were still coming from the ballroom, however.

"What in god's name is going on?" yelled Ginny, managing to get shakily to her feet before collapsing onto the floor again. She held her head in her hands and tried to blink the dust out of her eyes. Next to her, Draco gave a low moan and rolled over onto his back, his robes ripped and certainly not worth more than two knuts now, previously owned by Grindewalde or not. Looking at his robes, Ginny realized that hers must have been in about the same state and felt half her anger morph into disappointment, even though she knew it was a trivial thing to worry about. Preparing herself for the worst, she glanced down and looked at her robes. Her jaw dropped open at what she saw. No rips. No dust. They looked just a new as they had when she pulled them off the rack in Madam Malkin's that morning. Confused, the started examining the sleeves and twisted her head to see if there was any damage on the back that she might have missed. 

"What's going on?" she muttered again, this time in disbelief. She looked over at Draco and saw that he had managed to pull himself up into a sitting position as well. Despite his torn robes, he looked just as well as she did – no cuts, no bruises, nothing. 

Ginny followed his eyes and looked down at the carpet immediately beneath. It was red. All down the hallway, the floor was blanketed in dust, pieces of furniture, ruined portraits which had been hanging on the wall, and various-sized pieces of stone which had once been part of the ceiling or walls. The spot where she and Draco were sitting, however, was clean. 

In fact, they were sitting in the middle of a perfect semi-circle, which emerged from the wall which they were lying against and encircled their bodies, as if someone had put up a protective dome around them. Even the table they had dived behind had been untouched, save some sprinkling of dust along the top.

"Are all your family's parties like this, Malfoy, or are you just going all out for this on?" Ginny asked sarcastically, but her voice was shaking. Draco didn't seem to notice; he seemed to be entranced by his surroundings. His grey eyes scanned the area, drinking in everything. Suddenly, he snapped back and refocused his attention on Ginny.

He got to his feet with the grace of a panther, brushed off his robes, and held out his hand wordlessly to her. Pulling out his wand, he asked curtly, his cool, dry grasp already releasing hers, "Do you still have yours?" She nodded, a bit miffed that he had withdrew his hand so swiftly. What if she was still dizzy and had fallen over? Oh well, what did she expect from a Malfoy, anyway?

"We should be able to clear a path from here to there," he said ordered swiftly, indicating the spot where they stood and the ballroom doors in the distance, "with a few well-placed banishing charms. Just pile the debris on the side of the hallway. Hurry up!" he barked exclaimed impatiently as he saw her hesitant expression. He flicked his wand and a large block of stone went crashing out a nearby window. "We need to get to the ballroom, and quickly." 

Ginny felt like snapping at him for daring to order her around as if she was one of his servants, but instead she picked up her wand and concentrated on moving what was once a very ornate suit of armor to the side of the hallway. She was useless at charms if her mind wasn't all there, and at that moment it was trying to wander very, very far away.

"Not that way!" he snapped at her again. He upheld his cool disposition, but he could feel his heart pounding heavily as the shouts from the ballroom grew louder. What if something had happened to his mother? "Banish the stuff on the bottom, not the top – that way everything will just fly off." Then, just to irk her, he executed a perfect charm that brought them five feet further down the hall. 

Ginny gave a cry of frustration and slammed her wand down by her side, where it made a small sputtering noise before a tiny beetle emerged from thin air and fell to the ground. "I can't do this. I can't concentrate! Unlike you, Draco, who probably got used to attacks being made on your home weekly before you were eight, I do _not_ come to a party, even one of the Malfoy's, expecting attempts to be made on my life! Not to mention that there is something else very, _very, odd going on, and it's really freaking me out!" She indicated the perfect state of her robes. _

Then he did something strange. All through her outburst he had seemingly ignored her, continuing with his wand-swishing and piling debris up along the walls of the hallway. At her last statement, however, he paused and looked at her. She matched his stare furiously. His eyes were as cold, gray, and expressionless as the northern seas. Her anger faded slowly into apprehension. What was wrong? Why was he staring at her like that?

"What did you do today?" he demanded suddenly. His voice cracked through the air like a whip, and she jumped slightly. 

"Me?" she repeated. She blinked, her mouth falling open as the full impact of his words hit her. "Are you serious? You think this has something to do with me?!" Ginny exclaimed incredously. "I came here to get my damn interview, Draco, _not_ to sabotage your house, and I didn't even get that!"

He rolled his eyes and waved his wand again, flinging what was once an antique table up against the wall with particular force, as if he regretted taking important time out of his duty to talk to her. "Well, Miss Virginia, did you ever stop and consider the possibility that perhaps someone _else cast some sort of spell on you that helped trigger this?"_

Slowly, understanding began to creep into Ginny's mind. "What exactly are you trying to say?" she asked Draco, who was flinging his banishing charms with such force that the objects were ricocheting off the walls and merely falling back into place again.

"What I _am_ saying," he said through gritted teeth, "is that this is obviously _Potter's doing. Goddamned Potter, who just can't accept that for once in his perfect life, there's one battle he'll never win. So he somehow gets in here and sets off an explosion. But not before he's made sure _you'll_ be okay, though. Of course, he'll remember you. But does he care at all about the other three hundred or so people in this house? _My_ family, _my _friends? Of course not. He's a damned hypocrite – look at all the times he ranted throughout school about Death Eater attacks on innocent people, and now he's doing exactly the same thing!" Draco sent the last block of stone hurling out one of the hallway's windows and ran towards the ballroom doors._

Ginny was two seconds away from expressing her indignation over the thought that the "New Ministry" supporters in the ballroom were innocent before she remember she was supposed to be an Indifferent and bit her tongue. Innocents, indeed! They were the one who had started the attacks in the first place, and they didn't discriminate – muggles, muggle-borns, purebloods, everyone! _But this is his _family, the utterly annoying other half of her brain chimed in. _Of course he'd be looking at Harry as the bad guy._

Ginny shook herself from her stupor and began quickly tracing her way through the remaining piles of rubble to the ballroom doors, which Draco had already traced his way through. All those years in Bulgaria had definitely brought out some different aspects of Draco, once that Ginny wasn't altogether sure she liked. They made him seem too…human.

***

"Let me go! Let go of me!!"

Draco sighed, not bothering to turn around. He knew that voice. This would only lead to one thing…

Two mediwizards came flying through the air and landed on the floor next to where Draco and Narcissa were sitting on the floor. "Draco," his mother said shakily, trying to get up. "Can you help me out of here, please? I've had quite enough of large, heavy objects being flung towards me for one evening."

Draco muttered a last spell that would cover up the gash on her forehead. "No, mother, you stay here," he said, gently pushing her back on the ground. "I'll take care of this. Millicent!" he finished in a yell, looking over his shoulder as he pushed himself off the floor. In the center of the room, a bloody and dust-covered Millicent Bulstrode was holding off any mediwizard who would dare approach her with her wand. 

"Millicent…" he began calmly. "You look like you were hit hard. Let the mediwizards check you out."

"The hell I will! This is the story of a lifetime! Rita Skeeter'll have nothing on me! Just let me do my job!" At that moment a loud bang was heard, and Millicent's wand flew into the hand of one of the many house elves that were scurrying around. 

"Miss will not be wanting to get hurt!" it squeaked as three mediwizards rushed towards her. Draco sighed and moved onto another part of the ballroom.

It certainly looked better now than it did when he had burst in there an hour earlier, but it was still a far cry from its colorful splendor of simply a few hours ago. The beautiful decorations that Narcissa and the charmers had worked so hard over either littered the floor in pieces of hung in lifeless tatters from the walls. Though most of the debris had been removed from the area, the floor was still covered in a thick layer of dust, turning the perfectly polished black marble floor into a sickening shade of pasty grey.

Those who had been seriously injured had been transported immediately to St. Mungo's Hospital, but those with less grievous injures were lying scattered around the ballroom while they awaited mediwizard attention. Far off near one of the over-turned tables, Draco caught a glimpse of what he had been looking for – Ginny. Huddled on the floor next to yet another injured partygoer, her robes were now covered in dust and her hair was disheveled; oddly, however, Draco found himself thinking that she looked quite fetching. He didn't ponder it, however, and with a quick mental shrug he made his way over to her.

She seemed to sense him approaching even though he gave away no sign of his presence, and he saw her shoulders stiffen. She was hunched over a middle-aged man in crisp black and white robes – the photographer. Draco almost laughed out loud. Only Ginny would rush to the side of a common photographer to mend his broken arm the cream of pureblood society lay dying around her. 

"…just to keep it flat until the mediwizards get around to you," he caught her say softly. She still had her back to him. "It looks to be broken in about three places, but it shouldn't take them very long to mend it." The man murmured his thanks, and she Ginny finally turned around to face Draco.

"Did you find your parents?" she asked smoothly. They had split up the moment they entered the ballroom.

"Yes, I did," he answered. A moment went by and she didn't respond. "They're both fine," he offered up. "Mother was a bit shaken up with a few cuts, but she had been standing to the back of the room so she wasn't hit hard. Father wasn't as lucky - "

"…but he cleared out of here as soon as he could in order to conference with some of the ministry officials," Ginny finished for him. Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Well, I'm glad you found them okay." 

Inspiration struck, and Draco reached down and offered Ginny his hand. He saw a faint flicker of surprise cross her face, but when it gave way to a wide smile Draco knew he had just scored a big point. He added "Seduce Her Shamelessly With Pansy-Assed Acts of Chivalry" to his mental checklist.

"Do you know what caused the explosion yet?" Ginny asked, dropping her voice slightly. She tried to sound nonchalant about it, but Draco could see that her eyes were filled with anxiety.

"Not yet," said Draco. "Something odd. But we should know exactly what it was before long."

"So basically, you have no clue what happened," she discerned. The disappointment in her voice was obvious.

"We'll find out," he said confidently. He paused. Ginny was starting at him, a look intent etched on her face. "What is it?" he asked, thrown off track.

"Draco, I - " she stopped, and glanced around. "I think the mediwizards pretty much have everything under control. Do you think we could go somewhere to talk, you know, somewhere a little more private?" Several reporters were milling around, and she eyed them meaningfully.

Draco mentally checked his list. Yup, there it was, right under "Submit to her Every Whim, No Matter How Stupid and Pointless it May Seem."

"There's a room just down the hall from here that we can use. It's just a spare room, no one will be hanging around it," he hastily added, seeing the look of doubt on her face. 

"Fine," she finally consented. "Let's go."

***

Ginny followed Draco silently as he led her through the maze-like hallways of his home. 

She kept running through what she would say to him in her mind, but instead of forming themselves into coherent and logical statements, her thoughts were ricocheting off each other and bouncing all over her skull. 

"Here." His voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts, and she snapped back to reality. "We can talk in here. I'm sure my father will send some ministry officials searching for us, but it should take them awhile for them to get to us. This room isn't the most accessible in the manor."

Her mouth was set in a thin, straight line, and she raised an eyebrow in mock surprise at his words. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Don't try and be smart, Ginny," he retorted as he opened the door. He led her into the room, which was filled with piles of boxes, and, in the corner, two dusty but expensive looking chairs.  "You dragged me down here to 'talk' to about something urgent and now we're here, and you haven't said anything substantial yet."

Ginny tried in vain to brush the dust off the thick velvet cushion of one of the chairs while Draco lit a small candle set in the wall. "I just have to think for a minute, for goddsakes."

"That's fine. Take as much time as you want. It's not like, say, someone just attempted to commit mass murder in my house." 

Ginny gave a cry of frustration, and felt her level of irritation rise steeply as she caught him grinning. Quickly, he pulled the other chair in front of hers and plonked himself down. "This is it!" Ginny snapped at him. "This is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about!"

He raised an eyebrow, a quizzical expression appearing on his face. In the darkened room, Ginny thought he looked just like a villain in a cheap romance novel. 

"Oh?" he asked. "What, exactly, is THIS?"

"YOU!" cried Ginny, exasperated. "One minute you're moody, the next you're joking… your mood swings rival the ones my cousin Rebekkah had while she was pregnant, and trust me, that is not an easy feat."

"I'm still not sure what you're getting at. Did you call me down here to liken me to pregnant relations of yours?"

Ginny sighed. She supposed she'd just have to come straight out and say it. 

"I keep getting mixed signals from you," she said explained. "One minute I feel as if you hate me, the next as if we're in the midst of a passionate, if not strange, courtship. What exactly are your feelings for me, Draco?" she asked him. As the words left her lips, she felt her heart start to beat faster, slowly at first, then faster and faster until she felt as if her ears were vibrating from the force of it. At that moment she felt like kicking herself, embarrassed at actually _caring_ what Draco Malfoy's opinion of her was. 

Draco's expression didn't change, but he leaned forward in his chair. "Well," Draco said finally, his eyes staring deep into Ginny's until she felt as if she were about to drown in waves of silver. "That, indeed, is a question which needs an immediate answer…" His voice trailed off, and he smiled at her. 

Ginny gave an irritated sigh and glared at him, but she couldn't help smiling a little. "You're deliberately trying to irk me, aren't you?" she said. His smile broadened into a grin. 

"Only half the time, dear Virginia," he answered, still smiling. "The rest of the time, I do it without trying."

"Just answer the question, Draco."

"Fine," he said, growing serious and straightening up in his chair. Ginny's heart started racing again. "The truth is that I'm attracted to you, Ginny, plain and simple. I'm not going to say that I fell in love with you at first sight that day in the bookstore all those years ago, I'm not going to say that I fell for you watching you during all those Quidditch matches, and I'm certainly not going to say that I pined for you during the time I was in Bulgaria and that it was 'the memory of your sweet face that kept me going the whole time.' Because, Miss Weasley, however fanciful and romantic those things may sound, they aren't the truth."

He paused to take a breath, and Ginny had to do the same. What he said hadn't been particularly affectionate, loving, or even nice, but she had still been entranced by his every word. And the worst part was, she didn't even know _why_.

"So, Ginny," he said, sliding his chair closer to hers. Gently, he took her hands in his and slowly began running his thumbs over her fingers. He looked straight into her eyes, not blinking. "I've answered your question. Now I have one to ask you – what do you think of my answer?" 

Ginny gnawed her lip slightly, a habit she had which always resurfaced when she was thinking hard. She saw his gaze drop from her eyes to her lips, and stopped abruptly. "I guess, " she said after a minute, smiling slightly, "that we could work something out."

Draco didn't react to her words. Still staring at her mouth, he slid forward in his chair and pulled her towards him so that their knees bumped together. Ginny shivered under the intensity of is gaze. His grey eyes had locked onto her face, and didn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. 

"Work something out, hmm?" Draco murmured. Without warning, he quickly leant forwards and gently kissed her in the tiny hollow just below her ear.

Ginny felt herself shiver, and she closed her eyes. Her mind was sending out faint warning signals, telling her something wasn't quite right with this scene, but somehow she didn't care. When Ginny opened her eyes again, she just caught a glimpse of Draco's eyes looking deep into hers before the candle in the corner flickered and went out. 

As soon as the light died, Ginny felt Draco stand up and roughly pull her with him to her feet. His arms engulfed her, and in an instant she felt his mouth upon hers. 

He kissed her endlessly, his mouth moving against hers meltingly slow. Her arms slid around him, and her fingers traced over his back. 

Suddenly, he released her. "Maybe we should continue this another time," he said, panting slightly. She opened her eyes again, realizing she hadn't consciously closed them, and tried to make out his face in the darkened room. 

"I guess you're right," she said after awhile, almost reluctantly. "I should go home and rest, since I'm sure I'll have to hunt your father down for that interview tomorrow, and I'm sure you have a lot on your hands right now…"

She could just make out his nod. "I'll walk you to the door," Draco said, gently taking her hand and leading her out of the room, smiling all the way. 

********

Eleanor and Stephen were twenty feet away from the Malfoy Mansion when the explosion went off. "There," Stephen said to her as they watched dust and debris fly up into the air. "It's done. Come on, let's get back to headquarters before the mediwizards arrive."

Stephen started to back away from the scene, but Eleanor hesitated. "Do you think she's okay?"

"Of course she is!" Stephen snapped irritably. They had been waiting outside the Malfoy Mansion for hours, hidden in the extensive shrubbery just inside the wrought iron gates, waiting to confirm that the mission had gone off without a hitch. "Hermione worked on charming those robes for weeks, don't you trust her work?"

"Of course I do," Eleanor said, still reluctant to leave the scene even though her legs were painfully cramped after spending all that time crouched under Harry's old invisibility cloak with Stephen. "It's just that things can always go wrong, especially since practically all the spells we're using are still in the experimental stage, and, oh…"

"Eleanor, we have to go," Stephen urged anxiously. "Hermione charmed those robes thoroughly so that not only would they protect Ginny, but they'd make sure the explosion wouldn't be triggered until she got a certain distance from the ballroom. Now, unless she went to another room in the mansion, took off her robes, then returned to the party stark naked, I'm sure she's just peachy. Now, let's _leave_."

Meanwhile, the New Ministry's elite team of mediwizards had arrived. A swarm of house elves ran out to open the manor's front gates just at their brooms landed. Between the dust flying through the air, the cries of the injured from the collapsed section of the manor, and the terrified squeals of the house elves, there was considerable amount of distraction that allowed them to slip out the gates of Malfoy Manor unnoticed. 

As soon as they exited the Apparition Restrictive zone around the manor, the pair disappeared and reappeared almost instantaneously in Hyde Park in muggle London. Eleanor gave a sigh as she felt her feet reach the ground. "Done," she sighed with a relief. "What a night. I don't know why I volunteer for these missions."

"It's because you'll jump at any excuse to spend time with me," Stephen joked, stuffing the invisibility cloak into the small backpack he carried.

Eleanor rolled her eyes and was about to retort when two shadowy figures stepped up to them. "Guys," Parvati hissed, causing them to jump. "Sorry," she laughed. "It's just me. Charlie was here before, but he went back to wake the others once we saw you apparate. What took you so long? I've been hanging around here forever."

"Oh, stop your whining, Parvati," Stephen said. "At least you weren't the ones who had to spend the whole night squished under an invisibility cloak behind some prickly bushes."

Parvati rolled her eyes. "Oh, be a man, Stephen. You're the one who always brags about his narrow escapes from the New Ministry goons – don't tell me you can't take a few beatings from the Malfoy's prickly landscape."

"Oh, shut up you guys," Eleanor said. "You can bicker all you want when we get back to headquarters. Parvati, where's the portkey?"

Parvati tilted her head to the right. "It's the old newspaper under that bench over there. Charlie and I set it up hours ago."

"Good. Let's go," said Eleanor, snatching the backpack from Stephen and stalking off before either of them could come up with any other insults to throw at each other. Within seconds, they had arrived at the house that served as a cover to the entrance to the headquarters of The Resistance. There was a minor scuffle when Parvati accused Stephen of deliberately stepping on the backs of her shoes, but otherwise they made it down into The Resistance quickly.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the other members had been awakened by Charlie and were already waiting for them when they arrived. "Where were you?" Charlie asked as the three staggered in. The rest of The Resistance greeted them with yawns or sleepy nods. "I must have left you twenty minutes ago."

"Sorry," Eleanor apologized. "You know these two. Why waste time saving the wizarding world from the clutches of evil when you can spend you time calling each other names?"

"Never mind that," said Harry gesturing for them to take their seats. He was the only one who looked as if he had spent the whole night awake. "Tell us what happened."

"Eleanor and I arrived at the manor just as the first guests were arriving," Stephen began. "Under the invisibility cloak, we apparated into the woods outside the Malfoy estate and from there walked up to the front gates. Like Angela said, because of all the guests, the press, and all those other wizards hanging around the gates, security around the gates was considerably less than what it normally is, and we were able to slip through with a batch of reporters when the house elves opened the gates to let a few of them through."

Eleanor continued the summary. "We walked halfway around the house and sat behind some bushes -"

"_Prickly_ bushes," interjected Stephen.

"Some _prickly_ bushes where we had a good view of the ballroom. Once all the guests had arrived, the spectators left and so did the press, a little while later. Then we waited. And waited. And waited for about four and a half hours until the explosion went off."

"Then what?" asked Ron, still looking half asleep in his wrinkled sweatpants and ancient Chudley Cannons t-shirt.

"The mediwizards arrived pretty quickly, and we were out of there as soon as the gates were opened," Stephen said. 

"What about my sister?" Charlie asked, looking worried. 

"We saw her go in," Eleanor said. "You were right, Parvati, those robes looked fantastic on her – but we didn't see her after that."

"What do you mean? Didn't you wait until you saw the mediwizards escort her out?" Charlie turned angrily to Hermione and Harry. "You told me you would make sure she was taken care of! How could you just leave her there, under that pile of smoking rubble?"

"Charlie, calm down," said Hermione gently. "She _is taken care of. We placed a Protection Charm on her before we let her go to the party, a powerful one – without her knowledge, of course. She's fine."_

"Can you be sure?" Ron broke in. 

"Oh, stop it guys," Laura Madley said through a yawn she couldn't stifle. She ran a hand through her tangled red hair. "Hermione's the smartest witch in the world. She enchanted those robes herself, worked for weeks on them – nothing's happened to Ginny."

"Laura's right, Ron, Charlie," Harry added. "You know we would have never let Ginny go in there unless we were sure she'd be perfectly safe." Assuming the matter was settled, he turned back to Stephen and Eleanor. "What was the extent of the damage?"

"Well, the Malfoy's Manor doesn't look so hot," Stephen broke in. "Half the ballroom's caved and rubble's been strewn all over the property. Not to mention there's about an inch of dust covering everything. But as to the extent of the human loss, we can't really tell."

"People died, that's for sure," Eleanor said. "The only question is who, and how many."

Fred scowled from the other side of the table. "With our luck, I'd bet that bastard Malfoy walked away with just some dust on his robes."

"Turn on the wireless," Angelina suggested. "By now, there have to be some reports floating around."

Neville left the table to fetch the radio while Hermione conjured up mugs of coffee and hot chocolate for everyone. By the time he had lugged it out of the room he shared with Larry Summers, everyone had woken up enough to seat themselves comfortably around the table, anxiously waiting to her the news. 

Neville plonked the radio on the table and accepted the mug of coffee Hermione handed him before sitting down. Sarah Fawcett, who was closest to the radio, turned it on with a quick flick of her wand.

"…at the Redemption Ball at Malfoy Manor, roughly an hour ago, just after midnight," an unfamiliar voice announced. Everyone strained to hear the words. A different voice came on the air. 

"There was no warning," a slightly-hysterical woman said. "The party was just about to wind down when all of a sudden a huge explosion went off somewhere just outside the ballroom. Half the place caved in and rubble was thrown everywhere."

The announcer came back on. "Minister of Magic Lucius Malfoy, who was not harmed in the attack…" This decree was met by a loud wave of disappointed wailing from the Resistance members. "…had this to say about the attacks on his home." A couple seconds of static ensued, then Lucius Malfoy's familiar voice could be heard clearly through the wireless.

"At this moment, we do not have any hard evidence as to who the perpetrators are," he began, "but this is clearly the work of The Resistance, the same rebel terrorist group that has been fighting all these years to take back the peace we have fought so long and hard for. Myself and the rest of the members of the new Ministry will double our efforts to see that they are brought to justice."

"Smarmy bastard," George growled, severely disappointed that Lucius had survived the attacks.

"Shhh," everyone else shushed him. 

"At this point, the exact number of causalities is not known," the announcer continued. "But is has been confirmed that Joseph Lestrange, Head of Finances at the Ministry, and Adrian Pucey, chaser for Puddlemere United and fiancé of Victor Zambini's daughter Blaise, have been killed in the blast. Mrs Lydia Lestrange and Vincent Crabbe, Senior are among dozens of the injured which have been transported to St Mungo's Hospital. We will continue to keep you posted throughout the night as more reports are verified. This is Fiona Hapshaw, reporting in place of Millicent -" 

Sarah cut off the transmission. The group sat silent, absorbing what had been said. 

"They didn't say anything about Narcissa or Draco," offered Ernie MacMillian. 

"Or Padma," supplied Parvati, her face void of any expression.

"_Or_ Ginny," snapped Ron, getting to his feet. "Honestly, Harry, what were you thinking? She's probably lying dead in that creepy mansion right now!"

"Ron," Hermione said in a warning tone, "Don't."

"No Hermione, I will," Ron yelled. "I'm sick of this, Harry, I'm sick of this."

"Sick of what, Ron?" asked Harry, looking genuinely confused. 

"Of you constantly trying to pull Ginny over to The Resistance. I know you still keep in contact with her. I know how you've got her picture hidden in your room."

"There's nothing wrong with missing Ginny, Ron," Harry retorted sharply. "She's like a sister to me, too."

"A sister to _you_? Ha." Ron and Harry were standing practically nose-to-nose now, the rest of The Resistance too stunned to move. "She's _my_ sister Harry, _my_ sister. And I told you I didn't want her to be a part of this any more. Fred, George, Charlie, and me told you after the Last Battle that we didn't want her to have to live this kind of life anymore. That's why we wouldn't let you tell her we were still alive."

"_That's_ why we don't want her down here," butted in Charlie, who had been sitting quietly on a cushion on the floor until this point. "_That's_ why we don't want her going to the Malfoy Manor for New Ministry parties where things explode and people _die_, no matter how many layers of magical clothing she's wearing!"

"Hey, guys," broke in Fred, "Not saying I don't agree with you here, but I'm sure Ginny is fine. And I'm sure Harry will be glad to promise that Ginny will be left out of all Resistance matters after this, right?" He, George and Charlie each fixed Harry with a fierce glare that dared him to disagree.

"Sure, whatever," said Harry, looking away from the group and shrugging as if he couldn't care less. "I just thought that she would be valuable to the cause, that's all, you know, having a powerful contact on the outside or whatever."

"No Harry," said Ron menacingly, refusing to let the matter die. "I don't think that's it at all. I think _you needed Ginny. I think you got used to her hanging around you year after year, showering you wit her unconditional devotion, and now that she doesn't need you anymore, you've lost it. You're trying to get her __back to you."_

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione cried, standing up from her chair with such force that she knocked it back and sent it sliding across the floor. "Now, that is enough. This is hardly the time or place for your discussion."

Silence ensued. Harry and Ron were still glaring at each other, and the other Resistance members were too stunned to move. Finally, Harry looked away and took a couple steps away from Ron. "Hermione's right," he finally said. "Sorry, guys. I must be overtired. I should be getting some sleep. All of us should." The group murmured quietly in agreement.

"Yeah, we've all had a busy day," said Ron unconvincingly, still looking very red in the face and ready to kill. "Let's go to bed."

Harry turned and stalked out of the room first, slamming the door to his private room shut. Gradually, the other members filed out to their respective rooms. Lisa quickly cleaned up the now empty mugs with a quick wave of her wand before heading off to the small room she shared with Parvati.

"Ron," Hermione said quietly as the others filed out of the room, "You should apologize to Harry. Whatever's going on, he means well. And he really does care about Ginny."

Ron was still fuming. "Sure, I'll apologize," he said. "When he apologizes for endangering my sister for his own personal, twisted reasons!" Then he stormed off to the room he shared with Charlie without even saying goodnight to her.

Hermione sighed. Both boys were so pig-headed; she just hoped they reached an agreement in time so The Resistance wouldn't suffer from it.

She was about the head to bed when she heard the door behind her creak open – the magical entrance to The Resistance headquarters. Startled, Hermione whirled around.

"Hello," the person said. She was wearing a thick, dark pink wool cloak. "I didn't think I would get here so soon." She whipped off her hood and shook back her brown curls.

Hermione gasped in disbelief. 

"Pansy?" 

********

After seeing Ginny leave early that morning, Draco went straight back to the ballroom to see what the mediwizards had discovered in their clean-up. Upon learning that Adrian Pucey had been among dozens killed, he immediately sought out Blaise. He found her in the East Wing at the other side of the manor, leaning against the banister of the stairway to his bedroom.

"Blaise," he said gently as he approached, "What are you doing here? You should be getting yourself checked out by the mediwizards."

She didn't respond. Her light blue robes were covered in soot, and it was the first time since he was eleven years old that he had seen Blaise with her hair in a mess, but otherwise she seemed perfectly fine. She wasn't crying, but she was clutching an embroidered handkerchief in her right hand as if she just had been. Her brown eyes were bloodshot.

"Blaise?" he ventured again cautiously, and only then did she turn her head towards him.

"Adrian is dead," she stated matter-of-factly, her voice void of emotion.

"I know," he said. "I saw them carry him out. His parents, they're looking for you…"

Blaise snorted and tossed her head. "They don't want me there. They never liked me." Her gaze unfocused, and Draco saw tears begin to flood her eyes. "We were dancing, right there by the fireplace. Whatever it was that caused the explosion must have been in the fireplace, because when it went off I was thrown clear across the room. I was lucky, I guess – I landed right on top of another couple who had been knocked over by the blast, and someone pulled me under one of the tables to shield me from the falling rubble. But Adrian…" She sobbed, and raised her handkerchief up to her eyes.

"Blaise," said Draco hesitantly, feeling awkward as having no idea how to comfort one of his closest friends. "You don't have to talk about it."

Blaise shook her head sadly. "You know, Draco," she said, her voice stronger. She raised her head to look him in the eye. "After we won the Last Battle, I didn't feel much like celebrating. Sure, we won, but I didn't think it would last. After the first year passed, I still felt like we were just in the eye of the storm, that everything we had managed to avoid in the last year would come back and hit us with a vengeance. It wasn't until tonight that I finally began to believe that peace might be attainable. You'd come back home, Adrian and I were getting married…" Her voice took on a hard tone, and even in the darkness of the hall Draco could see the anger plainly etched on her face. "This just goes to show what happens when I let my guard down."

Wordlessly, Draco reached for her hand. She gave it to him without a fuss. Slowly, he led her back to the ballroom. 

By six o'clock the next morning, the mediwizards had cleared everyone off the Malfoy property, either treating them on the scene for minor injuries or taking those who had been more seriously hurt off to St. Mungo's. Draco's mother, who had only suffered a few scratches but who was severely shaken up, had been escorted to her own private room in the hospital by several of the Malfoy house-elves. Meanwhile, Draco and his father were cramped into a very small room at the ministry, which also held every other ministry official who hadn't been injured in the attacks. 

"How could this _happen?_" Lucius roared, knocking over a stack of parchment onto an already littered floor. The early-rising sun flooded the room with a soft red glow. "No, shut up Crabbe, I don't want to hear what the probability against this happening was. All I know is that it _did_ happen, and someone is going to pay for it, and pay dearly."

Draco nodded absentmindedly, only half-listening to the others in the room. He had listened to dozens of theories jumbling around in his brain for the past four hours – he didn't have the energy to listen to the theories of the ministry, too.

_What about an explosion charm?_ He thought to himself. _No, no, that would work – for an explosion that big they'd need at least forty Firetounges. Those would never fit in the fireplace, expansion spell or not – not to mention that there's no way they'd be able to get in here to do it. Also, the security was slightly lax last night but the wards around the house itself should have been fully functional. _

"What do you think, Draco?" his father's voice snapped impatiently. 

"I've been going over every theory," Draco said slowly, "And it seems to me that there's no way they could have rigged any explosion to go off in the manor unless they had some kind of contact on the inside. One of the decorators that were milling about all week, or one of the photographers or musicians that were there on the night…"

"Very good, Draco," his father said dryly. "If you were truly paying attention, you would have known that that was the exact theory I was asking you to comment on!"

"Oh," said Draco, not really caring. His mind drifted off as his father went off into another rant. _Maybe they simply asked Longbottom to try and perform a simple Cheering Charm over the Floo Network,_ Draco thought to himself with a laugh. _That surely could have caused the explosion. He chuckled, unable to hold it back._

"I'm glad you find my father's death so amusing, Malfoy," Alexander Norfolk said sarcastically, subtly calling Draco back to attention. "But anyway, I shall be glad to step up and fill his position on the Board of Security, if the ministry agrees."

"Thank you, Norfolk," Luicus said, making a note on a piece of parchment in front of him. "Do you already have a pair of the Ministry Security robes, or do you need to be issued a pair?"

Draco didn't hear his answer. Robes, robes…the word triggered off an image in his mind. Ginny, looking gorgeous in her forest green robes…

Draco jumped to his feet. "Robes!" he shouted.

The whole room turned to look at him. "Yes, Draco," said Rosetoria Fay, the Ministry's chief counsel in a condescending tone. "Robes! Now, what's the other thing you must remember before leaving the house for Ministry meetings? Could it be, your brain?"

Draco shot her a withering glare. "I'll have you know, Rosetoria Fay, that my brain is functioning properly. That's what I forgot to mention before – when the explosion went off, I was in the hallway outside the ballroom with Virginia Weasley. We didn't get hit by one bit of debris; in fact, the when the entire hallway was blanketed in dust and broken furniture, everything within a two-foot radius of us was clear. The Resistance must have made sure that Ginny was properly protected before sending her into the Manor. Her _robes_ were probably carrying a strong Protection Charm." He threw a smug look at Rosetoria.

"Oh, kiss my chronicles," she spat angrily. __

The room became quiet as each of them members processed the information. Lucius raised an eyebrow. 

"Well," he said, smiling slightly for the first time in hours. "This might change things. Draco," he called to his son. "You know what you have to do."

Draco smiled. Indeed, he knew exactly what had to be done.

********

It was nine in the morning before Ginny made it back to her apartment. Upon leaving Draco's house, the mediwizards has caught her and insisted that she be taken to St Mungo's, even though she protested that she didn't have a scratch on her. The hospital was such a complete and utter mess, crawling with victims, their families, and reporters, that it took the mediwizards roughly four hours to verify the truth of Ginny's words and send her home with a clean bill of health. 

Ginny sighed and plopped onto her overstuffed blue couch. At this point, there was nothing she wanted more than a long shower and an even longer nap. However, against her better judgment, she pulled out her wand and flicked on the radio.

"So far, thirty-seven of the Malfoy guests have been confirmed dead," the announcer was saying. "Among those thirty-seven are Sergio Gontlato, Bulgarian Ministry of Magical Foreign Affairs, Lillian Rosier, daughter of Evan Rosier, Jacques Bonne, Curse Specialist for the French Ministry of Magic, former Department of Mysteries official Augustus Rookwood…"

Ginny sighed and flicked the radio off. There were hundreds of questions floating around in her brain, like how the explosion had gone off, how were Harry and Hermione involved, and most importantly, when the hell was she going to get her interview with Lucius Malfoy, but she was too tired to think. Dragging herself off the couch, she staggered into the hallway and reached for the door to her bedroom. She had to change out of her filthy clothes.

Ginny peeled off her robes and automatically tossed them onto the floor. She pulled her favorite pair of muggle jeans off the peg being her door and pulled a ratty grey sweatshirt over her head. She was about the head over to the fireplace to chat to her editor at the Prophet when her mother's voice sounded in her head.

"Pick your clothes up off the floor, Virginia," the phantom voice commanded. "I didn't pay good money for those clothes so you could throw them about."

"Yes, mum," Ginny mouthed obediently. She snatched her dress robes off the floor and inspected them. Hmm, they seemed pretty clean. She was too tired to take the time to perform the special cleaning charms on the delicate fabric. She was about to stick them in the closet when an alarm sounded in her head.

_Wait a minute. Why the hell are they clean?_

Slowly, a little nagging thought appeared in Ginny's brain. She tried to dismiss it a product of an exhausting night, but it refused to go away and the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. 

Ginny shivered, although the rising sun warmed her apartment. She could find the answer, she was sure she could…but did she really want to go back there, back to relive the darkest moments of her life?

Another glance down at her immaculate robes was all she needed to answer that question. Something odd was going on and she was going to find the answer, Lucius article or no Lucius article. Forgetting how tired she was, she shoved her robes into an old canvas bag and quickly headed out the door again. (_I changed these last few paragraphs here, as before I really had no reason to explain why Ginny went rushing out of the room, but now…all shall be revealed in chapter five!)_

********

"Pansy Parkinson?" Hermione asked, her jaw dropping. "You scared the life out of me. What are you doing here?"

"I finished my assignment earlier than expected," she said calmly, taking off her cloak and banishing it to a peg against the opposite wall. "I've heard some of the news reports. I trust everything went well at your end?" Pansy's blue eyes regarded her coolly.

"As well as we hoped," Hermione replied in an offhand way. "Eleanor and Stephen just got back about forty-five minutes ago."

"Is everyone okay?" Pansy asked. Her expression was calm, but Hermione could have sworn she saw her lip tremble slightly.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "Everybody." Pansy nodded, and smiled. 

"Well, I'm beat," Hermione said, desperate to get out of the room. "I'm just going to head off to bed."

"You do that," Pansy said with a cold smile. "See you tomorrow."

When Hermione got to her room, Parvati was already bundled under the covers of her bed and Hermione assumed she had already fallen asleep. As she was getting into her own bed, however, she heard Parvati stir and mumble something.

"She's back, is she?" Parvati asked, not opening her eyes.

Hermione rolled her eyes and blew out the candle beside her bed. "Honestly Parvati, we're miles underground and have virtually spent that last five years cut off from all civilization, and still your gossip radar is as sharp as ever."

"Gotta have something to distract myself from all this war and destruction," she replied without missing a beat. "God, a year in France. I didn't think she'd come back. I don't know if _I'd have come back. How'd she do, all in all?"_

Hermione shrugged before realizing that Parvati couldn't see her. "Okay, I guess. Pretty good. From all Lee's reports, she's doing well."

She heard Parvati give a little sigh. "Pansy Parkinson, fighting tooth and nail to preserve the ideals and achieve the goals of The Resistance. Even Professor Trelwany couldn't have predicted that." They lapsed into silence, Hermione staring blankly at the ceiling. She was just beginning to believe Parvati had fallen asleep when she spoke again.

"She asked about him, didn't she?"

Hermione played dumb. "She asked about who?"

"You know what I'm talking about. Did she, or didn't she?"

Hermione tossed in her bed, unable to get comfortable. "Yeah. Not directly, but I could tell that's what she was fishing for."

"Are things going to get weird between you and her again, now that she's back?"

Hermione's temper flared. "She shouldn't be here, Parvati. I don't trust her. I don't see how Harry can, how he can allow her in her and let her work with us. I still say she's waiting for an opportunity to sell us out."

"I know you don't trust her as a member of The Resistance," Parvati explained patiently. "What I really meant is, do you trust her around Ron?"

A moment of silence. "For the last time, Parvati," Hermione finally answered, "I don't care what you or the rest think. Ron and I are not dating."

"Of, of _course_ you're not dating," Parvati said with a laugh. "You're both too wrapped up in the Resistance work to ever do something like that, not to mention that you're both _still_ too stupid to admit to each other what you've been feeling since we were still in Hogwarts. But everyone knows Pansy's hung up on Ron, Hermione. Aren't you concerned she'll try something now that she's back?"

Hermione turned away from Parvati and angrily slammed her fist into her pillow. "My only concerns where Pansy is involved are for the security of The Resistance, Parvati," she said with a final note in her voice. "Now, good night!"

Thankfully, there was no answer from the other side of the room. 

Next Chapter: Ginny re-opens old wounds with a visit to The Burrow, we delve deeper into Pansy's relationship with The Resistance, we find out exactly what caused the explosion at the Malfoy's, and Draco is annoying. 

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/PillarOfFire/ Pillar of Fire, Harry Potter Fan fiction discussion group. Go! Join!

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/PillarOfFire/files/%27Art%27%20by%20Rose/DracoGinnySnog.jpg  Draco/Ginny snog, by the wonderful and multi-talented Rose Fay!

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/PillarOfFire/files/Amanda's%20(Lame)%20Fanart/blaise.jpg Blaise, by me. I don't know what possessed me.


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